IE  WOLF 


G: 


STORY   OF   PLAINSMEN. 

THE     WOLF     HUNTERS.  .,     Grin. 

nell.      Charles    Scribner's    Sons,    Ne- 

H/pHE    WOLF   HUNTERS"   is   a    plans- 
ible  and   adventurous  story  of  three 
discharged  soldiers  who,  in  the  early 
days,  rigged  out  an  outfit  and  pushed  onto 
the  buffalo  plains  to  take  pelts  for  the  mar- 
ket.    Except  for  the  phenomenal  shooting 
of  Wild  Bill  Hickok,  which  very  few  peo- 
ple  who   know   something  of  good   marks- 
manship  will   be  likely   to  credit,   there  is 
nothing  in   the  book  that  may  not  be  ac- 
j  cepted   as   a   fair,  accurate   and   eminently 
sane   picture   of   life   in   the  early   days   of 
the  West.     That  being  true,  it  follows  that 
adventures  with  outlaws  and  Indians  were 
I  frequent,  for  life  in  those  times  was  any- 
thing but  prosaic. 

The  ruse  by  which  the  Jayhawker  ruf- 
fians are  frightened  off  after  attempting 
-to  steal  the  outfit's  mules,  the  discovery  of 
human  skull  and  the  tragic  message 
besiu  "f  the  messenger  service  of  the 
faithful  dog  that  runs  the  gauntlet  of  the 
attacking  Indians,  are  all  episodes  peculiar 
to  the  lawless  plains  and  all  are  described 
with  a  sobriety  of  statement,  nevertheless 
graphic,  not  often  met  with  in  stories  of 
the  West. 

The  author  relates  in  an  introductorv 
note  that  the  book  describes  the  actual  ad- 
ventures of  Robert  Morris  Peck  and  his 
two  companions,  all  discharged  soldiers, 
during  the  whiter  of  1861-1862,  who  went 
out  on  the  plains,  made  a  camp  and  spent 
the  winter  there  killing  buffalo  and  pois- 
oning the  carcasses  with  strychnine.  The 
wolves  that  fed  on  these  carcasses  died 
about  them,  and  the  pelts  were  taken. 


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THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 


Then  come  a  puff  of  smoke  and  the  prairie  was  afire." 

[Page  237] 


THE 
WOLF  HUNTERS 

A  STORY  OF  THE  BUFFALO  PLAINS 


EDITED   AND    ARRANGED 
FROM   THE    MANUSCRIPT   ACCOUNT    OF 

ROBERT   M.   PECK 


BY 

GEORGE  BIRD  GRINNELL 


Illustrated 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
NEW  YORK:::::::::::::::::::::i9i4 


COPYRIGHT,  1014,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  September,  1914 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

IN  the  days  of  the  buffalo,  wolfing  was  a  rec- 
ognized industry.  Small  parties — two  or  more 
men — with  team,  saddle-horses,  and  camp  outfit, 
used  to  go  out  into  the  buffalo  range,  establish  a 
camp,  and  spend  the  winter  there,  killing  buffalo 
and  poisoning  the  carcasses  with  strychnine.  The 
wolves  that  fed  on  these  carcasses  died  about 
them,  and  their  pelts  were  taken  to  camp,  to  be 
stretched  and  dried. 

The  work  was  hard  and  not  without  its  dan- 
gers. Storms  were  frequent,  and  often  very  se- 
vere, and  the  Indians  were  bitterly  opposed  to 
the  operations  of  these  wolf  hunters,  who  killed 
great  numbers  of  buffalo  for  wolf  baits,  as  well  as 
elk,  antelope,  deer,  and  other  smaller  animals. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  winter  the  Indians  did  not 
usually  travel  about  very  much. 

The  following  pages  describe  the  adventures  of 
Mr.  Peck  and  two  companions — all  recently  dis- 
charged soldiers — during  the  winter  of  1861- 
1862. 

Robert  Morris  Peck  was  born  in  Washington, 
Mason  County,  Kentucky,  October  30,  1839.  At 
the  age  of  seventeen — November,  1856 — he  en- 

v 

M709990 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

listed  in  the  First  Cavalry,  and  the  following  year 
was  sent  to  Fort  Leavenworth  and  took  part  in 
the  Cheyenne  and  other  campaigns.  He  was  dis- 
charged in  1 86 1,  and  not  very  long  afterward 
became  a  wagon-master,  in  which  capacity  he 
served  in  the  army  of  the  frontier.  Mr.  Peck 
died  March  25,  1909. 

G.  B.  G. 

July,  1914. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    TOM'S  PLAN i 

II.    WE  GET  OUR  DISCHARGES     ....  7 

III.  WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 12 

IV.  BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE       .     .  24 
V.    WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS     .  42 

VI.     STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS    .     .  51 

VII.     JACK  TAKES  A  PRISONER 63 

VIII.    TOM'S  STRATEGY 72 

IX.     BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND       .     .  87 

X.    WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK      .     .  96 

XL    WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED      .     .     .     .  in 

XII.    OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK      .     .  122 

XIII.  KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 150 

XIV.  SATANTA'S  STORY 159 

XV.    WILD  BILL  VISITS  Us 171 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVI.  TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR       .     .  184 

XVII.  VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED     .     .  195 

XVIII.  BILL  RETURNS  FROM  His  SCOUT     .     .  206 

XIX.  A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP       .     .216 

XX.  WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS      ....  226 

XXI.  JACK'S  CLOSE  CALL 235 

XXII.  SATANK  ARRIVES 243 

XXIII.  SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 255 

XXIV.  CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT     ....  266 
XXV.  WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 277 

XXVI.  BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY      ....  297 


Vlll 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Then  come  a  puff  of  smoke  and  the  prairie 

was  afire" Frontispiece 

Facing  page 

"Five    minutes   to   get   out  of  range!     Now, 

git!"       60 

"It  must  have  been  the  work  of  Injuns"     .     .       154 
"Go  to  Tom" 250 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

CHAPTER  I 
TOM'S  PLAN 

"'II7ELL,  men,  what  will  we  do?"  said  Jack 
Flanagan.  "We  can  re-enlist  or  go  back 
to  the  States  and  each  hunt  his  job,  or  we  can  try 
to  get  something  to  do  where  we  can  all  three 
stick  together." 

"Let's  stick  together  if  we  can,"  said  I. 

"Now,  hold  on,  men,"  advised  Tom  Vance, 
"until  you  hear  what  I  have  got  to  say.  I  have 
been  thinking  a  lot  about  what  we'd  best  do,  and 
last  night  I  think  it  come  to  me." 

"Tell  us  what  it  is,  Tom,"  said  Jack  eagerly. 
"Tis  yourself  has  the  wise  head  on  his  shoulders, 
and  I'd  like  to  hear  your  plan." 

We  were  three  soldiers  of  Company  K,  First 
Cavalry,  whose  terms  of  service  were  about  to 
expire,  and  we  looked  forward  with  much  eager- 
ness to  the  time  when  we  should  again  be  our  own 
masters  instead  of  being  subject  to  military  dis- 
cipline. Of  course,  we  could  re-enlist  for  another 
five  years,  and  the  government  offered  induce- 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

ments  to  do  this.  A  soldier  who  re-enlisted  within 
three  months  before  the  expiration  of  his  term 
received  a  discharge  three  months  in  advance  of 
its  expiration,  with  furlough  for  that  length  of 
time  and  three  months'  extra  pay.  At  the  expi- 
ration of  that  time  he  was  expected  to  report  to 
his  company  or,  if  unable  to  do  that,  at  the  near- 
est military  post.  Failing  to  report  for  duty  on 
time,  he  was  regarded  as  a  deserter.  Tom  Vance 
had  served  for  three  enlistments  and  Jack  Flanagan 
for  two.  I  was  at  the  end  of  my  first  five  years. 

We  were  at  Fort  Wise,*  Colorado  Territory,  and 
it  was  the  summer  of  1861.  The  Civil  War  was 
just  beginning. 

"What  is  your  plan,  Tom?"  Jack  repeated. 

"Well,  men,"  said  Tom,  "as  I  say,  I  thought 
of  it  last  night,  and  I  believe  that  we  can  spend 
the  winter  somewhere  out  here  in  the  buffalo 
range  hunting  wolves  and  can  make  a  good  stake 
doing  that.  We  all  know  something  about  the 
plains  and  something  about  wolf  hunting,  and  if 
we  can  raise  the  money  needed  for  the  outfit,  I 
believe  we  can  make  a  go  of  it.  The  Indians  are 
pretty  quiet  now,  but,  of  course,  we  know  some- 
thing about  Indians  and  know  that  they've  got 
to  be  looked  out  for  all  the  time,  but  I  guess  we'll 
be  safe  enough.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

*  Afterward  Fort  Lyon,  on  the  Arkansas  River,  and  later  aban- 
doned. The  site  is  within  a  few  miles  of  the  present  town  of  Lamar, 
Colorado. 


TOM'S  PLAN 

"It's  sure  a  fine  plan,"  said  Jack,  "if  we  can 
carry  it  through;  but  how  much  money  is  it  going 
to  take?" 

"It's  a  great  scheme,  Tom,"  Padded,  "and  it 
seems  to  me  there  ought  to  be  money  in  it;  but 
have  we  the  capital?" 

"We'll  have  some  money,"  said  Tom,  "but,  of 
course,  we've  got  to  sail  pretty  close  to  the  wind 
and  to  cut  our  coat  according  to  our  cloth.  When 
we  get  our  'final  statements'  cashed  we  ought 
to  have  about  two  hundred  dollars  apiece.  This 
ought  to  buy  us  a  good  team  of  ponies  and  camp 
outfit,  with  supplies  for  the  winter.  At  outfitting 
towns  like  Saint  Joe,  Leavenworth,  Kansas  City, 
or  Independence  there  are  chances  to  buy  a  good 
team  and  camp  outfit  in  the  fall  from  people  who 
are  coming  in  from  buffalo  hunting,  and  get  them 
cheap,  too. 

"We  ought  to  go  to  one  of  those  towns,  look  out 
for  such  hunting  parties,  and,  if  we  can  find  what 
we  want  cheap,  take  it  in;  then  we  can  strike  out 
for  the  plains  by  the  old  Santa  Fe  road,  select  a 
location  in  about  the  thickest  of  the  herds,  build 
us  a  cabin  or  dugout,  and  get  ready  for  winter." 

Jack  and  I  agreed  that  the  plan  was  sound,  and 
Tom  then  asked  us  for  any  ideas  or  suggestions 
that  we  might  have.  We  both  felt,  however,  that 
his  fifteen  years'  service  had  given  him  so  much 
experience  that  he  was  much  more  likely  to  think 
of  the  necessary  points  than  we,  and  we  had  far 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

more  faith  in  his  judgment  than  in  our  own.  We 
asked  him  to  go  ahead  and  give  us  the  further 
details  of  his  plan  so  far  as  he  had  thought  them 
out. 

"First,"  Tom  said,  "we  must  get  what  we  abso- 
lutely need,  and  if  we  have  any  money  left  after 
that  we  can  buy  luxuries.  For  grub  we'd  better 
take  about  the  same  as  government  rations — flour, 
bacon,  beans,  coffee,  sugar,  rice,  and  salt.  A 
Sharp's  rifle  and  a  Colt's  navy  apiece,  with  plenty 
of  cartridges,  will  be  all  the  arms  we'll  want,  and, 
besides  the  clothing  we  already  have,  each  man 
ought  to  have  a  good  suit  of  buckskins.  These 
are  better  than  any  cloth  for  wear  and  to  keep  off 
the  wind.  We  can  make  overcoats,  caps,  and  mit- 
tens out  of  furs  as  soon  as  we  take  a  few  pelts  and 
dress  them.  Most  of  these  things  we  can  get  here 
before  we  are  discharged.  The  first  sergeants  of 
the  cavalry  companies  often  have  some  of  these 
things  over  and  will  sell  them  to  us  for  very  little 
money." 

"How  about  tobacco  and  pipes?"  asked  Jack. 

"Tobacco  don't  come  under  the  head  of  general 
supplies,  and,  as  Peck  don't  use  it,  every  man  will 
have  to  buy  his  own  tobacco." 

"How  about  whiskey?"  asked  Jack,  for  he  had 
a  weakness  for  liquor. 

Tom  answered  him  quickly:  "There'll  be  no 
whiskey  taken  along  if  I  am  to  have  any  say  in 
the  plans  for  the  expedition.  When  we  leave  the 


TOM'S  PLAN 

settlements  you'll  have  to  swear  off  until  we  get 
back  again;  and  that  reminds  me  that  when  we 
get  our  *  final  statements'  cashed  it  will  be  a  good 
idea  for  you  to  turn  over  your  money  to  Peck,  all 
except  a  small  allowance  for  a  spree,  if  you  must 
have  one." 

Jack  was  forced  to  yield  to  the  decision  of  the 
majority  that  whiskey  should  form  no  part  of  our 
supplies. 

"Seems  to  me,"  I  began,  to  change  the  subject, 
"that  we've  got  to  decide  on  where  we'll  go. 
Where  do  you  think  we'd  better  locate  our  winter 
camp,  Tom?" 

"As  to  that,  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind," 
said  he,  "but  it  must  be  somewhere  near  the  centre 
of  the  buffalo  range  and  not  too  far  from  the 
Santa  Fe  road.  Fort  Larned  is  about  the  middle 
of  the  range  this  season,  and  I've  thought  some  of 
pitching  our  camp  on  Walnut  Creek,  about  twenty 
miles  north  of  the  fort." 

"It's  now  toward  the  last  of  August,"  continued 
Tom,  "and  our  time  will  be  out  in  September. 
We  can  call  for  our  discharges  now  any  time  that 
we  see  a  chance  to  get  transportation  into  the 
States.  It'll  take  us  about  a  month  to  reach  the 
Missouri  River  if  we  go  by  bull  train,  and  that'll 
be  about  the  first  of  October.  Allowing  about 
ten  days  to  fit  out  for  the  return,  it'll  take  us  the 
rest  of  October  to  go  back  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Fort  Larned.  We  won't  want  to  do  much  wolf 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

skinning  before  the  middle  of  November,  when 
the  winter  coat  begins  to  get  good,  but  there'll 
be  plenty  of  work  to  keep  us  busy,  building,  fitting 
up  camp,  and  getting  ready  for  the  cold  weather. 
It  won't  do  for  us  to  have  our  camp  too  close  to 
Fort  Larned  or  the  Santa  Fe  road,  for  around 
there  buffalo  and  wolves  will  be  scarce,  but  we 
want  to  be  near  enough  to  call  for  our  mail  oc- 
casionally. Besides  that,  if  Indians  should  be 
troublesome  it's  a  good  thing  to  be  nigh  to  Uncle 
Sam's  soldiers." 

"They  say,"  put  in  Jack,  "that  there's  plenty 
of  otter  and  beaver  in  Walnut  Creek." 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom,  "we'll  be  apt  to  find  some 
of  them,  but  they're  nothing  like  as  plenty  as 
they  used  to  be.  All  those  timbered  creeks  used 
to  have  lots  of  beaver  and  otter  in  them,  and 
we'll  find  some  of  them,  but  our  best  hold  will  be 
wolfskins.  They  are  plentiest  and  easiest  to  get. 
We'll  take  a  few  steel  traps  along  to  try  for  otter 
and  beaver.  We'll  take  anything  we  can  in  the 
way  of  fur." 


CHAPTER  II 
WE  GET  OUR  DISCHARGES 

^HE  next  day  Tom  came  to  me  looking  rather 
A  serious,  and  I  saw  that  he  had  something  on 
his  mind,  and  when  he  had  gotten  me  alone  he  ex- 
plained what  this  was. 

"I've  been  thinking  it  over,  Peck,"  he  said, 
"and  I've  pretty  near  made  up  my  mind  that  we'd 
better  drop  Jack  and  either  pick  up  another  man 
or  else  you  and  me  go  it  without  a  third  man.  I 
am  afraid  that  Jack's  fondness  for  liquor  will  get 
him  into  trouble  and  so  make  trouble  for  us.  I 
hate  to  go  back  on  him,  for  he's  a  rattlin'  good 
fellow  when  he  is  out  of  the  reach  of  whiskey, 
but,  when  he  can  get  it,  he's  a  regular  drunkard." 

"That's  so,  Tom,"  I  answered;  "but  when  we 
get  started  back  to  the  plains  we'll  soon  have  him 
where  he  can't  get  whiskey,  and  then  he'll  be  all 
right.  I  think  we  can  manage  him  by  making 
him  turn  over  all  his  money  except  a  few  dollars 
to  you  or  to  me,  and  when  his  money  is  gone  we'll 
see  that  he  gets  no  more.  If  we  can  get  him  to 
promise  that  after  he  gets  through  he  will  let 
liquor  alone,  he  will  do  it.  Jack  prides  himself  on 
being  a  man  of  his  word." 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Well,"  said  Tom  with  some  hesitation,  "we'll 
take  him  then,  but  we  must  have  a  fair  and  square 
understanding  with  him  and  fire  him  if  he  don't 
come  to  time  and  behave  like  a  man.  We  can't 
fool  away  time  with  a  drunken  man." 

Besides  being  an  all-around  good  fellow,  Jack 
had  a  fiddle  and  could  play  it  and  could  also  sing. 
On  these  musical  accomplishments  I  counted  for 
much  enlivening  of  our  lonely  winter's  work. 

When  spoken  to  about  binding  himself  to  let 
whiskey  alone,  Jack  readily  promised  that  after 
one  little  spree  when  we  got  our  pay  he  would 
swear  off  entirely  till  the  wolf  hunting  trip  was 
over.  He  was  willing  to  turn  over  his  money  to 
Tom  or  to  me  whea  we  should  be  paid  off,  reserv- 
ing only  a  few  dollars  for  the  "good  time"  that  he 
had  promised  himself. 

We  now  began  trading  with  the  Indians  for  the 
skins  needed  for  our  buckskin  suits,  and  as  we  got 
them  we  smoked  them,  using  for  this  purpose  a 
large  dry-goods  box,  to  the  bottom  of  which,  on 
the  inside,  we  tacked  the  hides  in  place.  The  box 
was  then  turned  over  a  little  smothered  fire  in  a 
hole  in  the  ground.  We  found  that  this  way  of 
smoking  skins  was  an  improvement  on  the  Indian 
method,  smoking  them  more  quickly  and  evenly 
and  giving  them  a  more  uniform  color. 

In  1861  the  agency  for  the  five  tribes — Chey- 
ennes,  Arapahoes,  Kiowas,  Comanches,  and  Prai- 
rie Apaches — was  at  Fort  Wise,  and,  as  the  time 

8 


WE  GET  OUR  DISCHARGES 

approached  for  the  Indian  agent  to  make  the  an- 
nual distribution  of  gifts  from  the  government, 
the  tribes  would  come  in  to  receive  their  annui- 
ties. Our  trading  with  the  Indians  had  to  be  done 
quietly,  because  the  post  sutler  had  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  all  Indian  trade  on  the  post  reservation, 
and,  by  order  of  the  commanding  officer,  no  one 
else  might  carry  on  any  traffic  with  the  Indians. 

From  one  of  the  cavalry  first  sergeants  we  each 
bought  a  rifle,  revolver,  and  some  cartridges,  and 
such  additional  soldier  clothing  as  we  needed. 
These  purchases  were,  of  course,  illegal.  It  was 
a  serious  offence  for  any  non-commissioned  officer 
or  soldier  to  sell  government  property.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  very  frequently  done. 

A  few  days  later  Tom  came  into  the  quarters 
and  gleefully  exclaimed:  "I've  struck  it.  A  bull 
train  is  corralling  about  a  mile  above  the  post,  and 
the  wagon-master  has  agreed  to  haul  us  into  the 
settlements.  It  is  one  of  Majors  &  Russell's  out- 
fits going  back  empty,  and  the  wagon  boss  agrees 
to  take  us  and  let  us  work  our  passage,  for  he  is 
shorthanded.  The  train  will  lie  over  here  to-mor- 
row to  get  some  work  done,  and  that  will  give  us 
time  to  get  our  discharges,  draw  our  rations,  and 
say  good-by  to  the  other  men." 

"But,  Tom,"  said  Jack,  "how  can  we  work  our 
passage  in  a  bull  train  when  ne'er  a  one  of  us  knows 
anything  about  driving  bulls?" 

"I  told  the  wagon  boss  that,"  answered  Tom, 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"and  he  said  it  made  no  difference,  that  he  had 
other  work  that  any  greenhorn  could  do — night 
herding  or  driving  the  cavvy-yard.  We're  to  get 
our  plunder  out  at  the  side  of  the  road  as  he  pulls 
through  the  post.  Now,  as  that  is  settled,  let's 
put  on  our  best  j  ackets  and  go  over  to  the  captain's 
quarters  and  ask  for  our  discharges." 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Jack,  "we'll  let  you  do  the 
talking  for  us,  for  likely  enough  the  'old  man'  will 
give  us  a  lot  of  taffy  and  try  to  persuade  us  to 
re-enlist.  You  can  give  him  our  reasons  for  not 
taking  on  again  better  than  me  and  Peck." 

Before  long  we  had  marched  briskly  across  the 
parade-ground  and  lined  up  in  front  of  the  cap- 
tain's door,  with  Tom  in  the  post  of  honor  on  the 
right.  The  captain  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
out,  when  we  all  three  saluted,  and  as  he  re- 
turned it  he  asked : 

"Well,  men,  what's  wanting?" 

Standing  rigidly  at  attention,  Jack  and  I  kept 
silence  while  Tom  spoke,  saying: 

"We've  called,  sir,  to  see  if  the  captain  would 
be  so  kind  as  to  give  us  our  discharges  so  we  can 
take  advantage  of  the  chance  to  go  into  the  States 
with  the  bull  train  that's  camped  in  the  bottom 
yonder." 

"Why,  yes;  certainly,"  said  the  captain  slowly; 
"but  I  had  hoped  that  you  men  would  re-enlist 
in  time  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  three  months'  extra 
pay  with  furlough.  You  are  pretty  sure  to  re- 

10 


WE  GET  OUR  DISCHARGES 

enlist  sooner  or  later,  and  it  would  be  better  for 
you  to  take  on  in  your  old  company.  It  looks  as 
if  the  war  would  continue  for  some  time  yet,  and, 
as  we  will  probably  all  be  ordered  into  the  States 
soon,  there  will  be  good  opportunities  for  well- 
trained  soldiers  to  get  commissions  in  the  volun- 


teers." 


"We're  very  grateful  to  the  captain  for  his  good 
opinion,  but  weVe  concluded  to  go  down  into 
the  buffalo  range  and  put  in  the  winter  skinning 
wolves,"  said  Tom.  "Next  summer,  if  we  take  a 
notion  to  re-enlist,  we'll  hunt  the  old  company 
up." 

"All  right,  men,"  said  the  captain,  apparently 
not  wishing  to  seem  unduly  anxious  about  the  mat- 
ter; "you  may  go  to  the  first  sergeant  and  tell  him 
I  order  your  discharges  and  final  statements  made 


out." 


Thanking  him,  we  saluted  and  marched  off. 
The  documents  were  made  out  in  due  course 
and  handed  to  us  by  the  sergeant,  with  compli- 
ments on  the  good  service  we  had  all  performed 
and  the  expression  of  a  hope  that  when  we  had 
"blowed  in  our  money"  we  would  go  back  to 
the  old  company.  For  some  hours  we  were  busy 
packing  up,  happy  in  the  feeling  that  we  were 
once  more  citizens.  We  spent  some  time  shaking 
hands  and  bidding  good-by  to  every  one,  and  in 
some  cases  the  partings  were  rather  moving. 


ii 


CHAPTER  III 
WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

TTTTHEN  the  dusty  bull  train  came  rolling  along 
the  road  past  the  garrison  it  found  us  wait- 
ing. Our  property  was  stowed  in  an  empty  wagon, 
and,  again  shouting  good-bys  to  the  comrades  who 
had  come  out  to  see  us  off,  we  began  our  tedious, 
dusty,  dirty  march  with  the  bull  train. 

At  that  time  Majors  &  Russell,  of  Leavenworth, 
Kansas,  had  the  contract  for  transporting  govern- 
ment supplies  to  all  frontier  posts.  Mr.  Majors 
had  the  reputation  of  being  a  very  religious  man, 
and  in  fitting  out  trains  required  all  wagon-masters 
and  teamsters  to  sign  a  written  contract  agreeing  to 
use  no  profane  language  and  not  to  gamble  or  to 
travel  on  Sundays.  At  starting  he  furnished  each 
man  with  a  Bible  and  hymn-book,  and  exhorted 
him  to  read  the  gospel  and  hold  religious  services 
on  the  Sabbath.  This  statement  is  regarded  by 
many  people  of  the  present  day  as  an  old  frontier 
joke,  but  it  is  actual  fact. 

The  wagons — called  prairie-schooners — were 
large  and  heavy  and  usually  drawn  by  six  yoke 
of  oxen  to  the  team.  When  outward  bound  they 
were  loaded  at  the  rate  of  one  thousand  pounds 
of  freight  to  the  yoke.  Twenty-five  such  teams 

12 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

constituted  a  train,  in  charge  of  a  wagon-master 
and  assistant,  who  were  mounted  on  mules.  The 
travel  was  slow,  dusty,  and  disagreeable  beyond 
description.  At  camping  time  the  trains  corralled 


B  uJl  Tra  i  n   corra  1 1  e<f  for 


across  the  road,  a  half  circle  on  either  side,  leaving 
the  open  road  running  through  the  centre  of  the 
corral. 

Our  route  was  down  the  Arkansas  River  on  the 
north  bank,  but  the  train  itself  did  not  go  to  the 
water.  That  used  for  cooking  and  drinking  was 
carried  along  in  casks,  which  were  replenished  at 
every  opportunity.  The  detail  of  this  travel,  while 
interesting,  cannot  be  given  here,  but  on  the  jour- 

13 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

ney  we  learned  a  great  deal  that  was  absolutely 
new  to  us. 

On  the  first  night  out  from  Fort  Wise  we  were 
awakened  by  a  bull-whacker,  who  brought  to  our 
bed  two  men  who  had  asked  for  us  and  who  proved 
to  be  deserters.  We  felt  the  sympathy  for  them 
which  the  average  soldier  feels  for  a  deserter,  gave 
them  a  little  money  and  some  rations,  and  rec- 
ommended them  to  hurry  on,  travelling  at  night 
and  lying  hid  in  the  daytime.  They  went  on,  as 
advised. 

The  next  morning  a  sergeant  and  two  privates 
from  Fort  Wise  galloped  up  behind  us  and  stopped 
to  speak  to  us,  asking  if  we  had  seen  a  couple 
of  deserters.  We  gravely  told  them  that  we  had 
seen  no  such  men  and  suggested  that  they  might 
have  gone  west  from  Fort  Wise.  The  sergeant 
made  a  perfunctory  search  of  the  wagons  and  then 
went  on,  to  camp  a  little  farther  along  and  kill 
time  until  it  was  necessary  to  return  to  the  post. 
In  those  days  such  pursuing  parties  often  overtook 
the  deserters  they  were  after,  gave  them  part  of 
their  rations,  and  sent  them  along  on  their  road. 

At  the  Big  Timbers,  on  the  Arkansas,  we  met 
with  a  large  band  of  Cheyenne  Indians  on  the 
way  up  to  Fort  Wise  to  receive  their  annuities;  and 
when  we  reached  the  Santa  Fe  road,  where  it 
crossed  the  Arkansas,  coming  from  the  Cimarron 
River  by  the  sixty-mile  dry  stretch  called  the 
Jornada,  we  saw  a  government  six-mule  train, 

14 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

travelling  east,  just  going  into  camp  on  the  river 
bank. 

Here,  we  thought,  was  an  opportunity  to  get 
along  faster  and  travel  more  comfortably  if  we 
could  arrange  for  a  transfer  to  the  mule  train. 
Its  days'  drives  were  about  twice  as  long  as  those 
of  the  bull  train,  which  seldom  exceeded  twelve 
miles  a  day.  We  therefore  sent  Tom  back  to 
the  mule  train,  and  he  found  in  the  wagon-master 
of  the  train  an  old  acquaintance,  who  cheerfully 
agreed  to  take  us  on  to  Fort  Leavenworth  with- 
out charge.  Next  morning,  as  the  mule 
train  passed  us,  we  bade  good-by  to  our  kind  but 
dirty  friends  the  bull-whackers  and  tumbled  our- 
selves and  our  baggage  into  one  of  the  empty 
mule  wagons  and  went  on. 

At  the  Santa  Fe  crossing  of  the  Arkansas,  we 
had  begun  to  see  a  few  buffalo;  and  the  herds  grew 
larger  as  we  went  on  until  we  reached  Pawnee 
Fork,  near  Fort  Larned,  which  seemed  to  be  about 
the  centre  of  their  range.  After  we  passed  the 
fort  their  numbers  decreased  until  we  came  to 
the  Little  Arkansas,  where  we  saw  the  last  of 
them.  Our  old  company,  K  of  the  First  Cavalry, 
had  built  the  first  quarters  at  Larned,  in  1859. 
When  we  passed  it,  in  the  autumn  of  1 86 1,  it  was 
garrisoned  by  two  companies  of  the  Second  In- 
fantry and  one  of  the  Second  Dragoons  and  was 
commanded  by  Major  Julius  Hayden,  Second 
Infantry. 

15 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

After  joining  the  mule  train  Tom,  Jack,  and  I 
made  it  our  business  to  keep  the  outfit  supplied 
with  fresh  meat  while  passing  through  the  buffalo 
range.  We  also  killed  numbers  of  ducks,  geese, 
brant,  and  sand-hill  cranes,  borrowing  the  wagon- 


ft  ft  ft  ft  ft  ft  ftft  ft  ft  ft  ft 

Mule  Train  camped  in.  park 

ft  ft  a  ft  ft  a  a  a  ft  &  a 


Wa.$on Masters  Ten t 


master's  shotgun  for  bird  hunting.  This  sug- 
gested to  us  that  a  good  shotgun  would  be  a  useful 
part  of  our  equipment  for  the  winter's  work. 

In  due  time  we  reached  Fort  Leavenworth,  re- 
ceived our  pay  from  our  old  paymaster,  Major 
H.  E.  Hunt,  and  then  went  down  to  Leavenworth 
City,  two  and  a  half  miles  from  the  fort.  We 
stopped  at  a  boarding-house  kept  by  an  old  dra- 
goon who  had  a  wide  acquaintance  among  citi- 
zens and  soldiers  and  who  could  and  would  be 
useful  to  us  in  getting  together  our  outfit. 

16 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

The  war  between  the  States  was  now  in  full 
blast,  and  blue  cloth  and  brass  buttons  were  seen 
everywhere.  Several  of  our  former  comrades  had 
enlisted  in  the  volunteers,  and  some  had  obtained 
commissions. 

According  to  our  previous  understanding,  I  had 
been  chosen  as  treasurer  and  bookkeeper  for  the 
expedition  and  began  to  keep  accounts  of  receipts 
and  expenses.  Each  man  turned  into  a  common 
fund,  to  be  used  in  the  purchase  of  an  outfit, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — making  a  common 
capital  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  The  bal- 
ance of  each  man's  money  was  left  in  his  hands  to 
use  as  he  saw  fit,  except  in  the  case  of  Jack,  whom 
we  had  persuaded  to  turn  over  all  his  money  to 
me.  Jack  begged  ten  dollars  from  me  to  go  off 
and  have  a  good  time,  and  Tom  advised  me  to 
give  it;  but  he  warned  Jack  that  he  would  prob- 
ably bring  up  in  the  lockup  and  declared  that  if 
he  did  so  he  should  stay  there  until  we  were  ready 
to  start.  Both  Jack  and  I  had  so  much  respect 
for  Tom's  greater  age  and  experience  that  we  never 
thought  of  taking  offence  at  his  scoldings. 

For  two  days  Tom  and  I  were  busy  going  about 
from  one  stable  to  another,  hoping  to  find  a  ready- 
made  camp  outfit,  team,  and  wagon  offered  for  sale 
cheap.  Nothing  like  that  had  as  yet  been  seen. 
We  had  heard  nothing  of  our  Irishman,  and  I  was 
getting  a  little  uneasy  about  him  and  asked  Tom 
if  I  should  not  go  to  the  police  station,  pay  Jack's 

17 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

fine,  and  get  him  out.  Tom  agreed,  and  expressed 
some  sorrowful  reflections  on  the  blemish  to  Jack's 
character  which  his  love  for  liquor  implied. 

As  expected,  Jack  was  found  behind  the  bars. 
He  had  evidently  received  a  terrible  beating,  part 
of  it  from  a  gang  of  toughs  who  had  tried  to  rob 
him,  and  the  remainder  from  the  police  who  had 
finally,  with  much  difficulty,  arrested  him.  I  was 
obliged  to  pay  a  fine  of  twenty  dollars  to  get  Jack 
out. 

A  further  search  of  Leavenworth  City  failed  to 
show  us  what  we  wanted,  and  we  were  getting  dis- 
couraged. To  buy  a  team  and  a  camp  equipment 
at  the  prices  that  were  asked  would  take  all  the 
money  we  could  raise  and  still  leave  us  poorly  pre- 
pared for  our  expedition.  We  were  considering 
the  possibility  of  doing  better  in  Kansas  City  and 
Saint  Joe  and  had  half  decided  to  go  to  those  places 
when  one  day  Jack  came  rushing  in,  exclaiming: 

"I've  struck  it.  I've  struck  just  the  rig  that 
we  want.  A  lot  of  fine-haired  fellows  from  the 
East  have  just  got  in  from  a  buffalo  hunt  with  a 
splendid  outfit  they  want  to  sell.  They  will  take 
anything  they  can  get  for  it,  because  they  are 
going  back  East  on  the  railroad  and  are  in  a  hurry 
to  get  off;  and  who  do  you  think  I  found  in  charge 
of  the  outfit  but  Wild  Bill  Hickock?*  Bill  told 

*  James  Butler  Hickock,  better  known  as  Wild  Bill,  was  a  famous 
character  in  Kansas  and  the  West  from  1860  to  1876.  In  1861  he 
was  sometimes  called  "Indian  Bill"  or  "Buckskin  Bill,"  but  the 

18 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

me  he'd  been  hired  by  three  fellows  to  buy  the 
team  and  rig  up  the  whole  equipment  for  them,  and 
he'd  been  their  guide.  He  says  it's  a  dandy  out- 
fit. He  don't  know  how  much  they'll  ask  for  it, 
but  says  they  don't  care  for  money  and  will  give 
it  away  if  they  can't  sell  it.  They've  left  Bill  to 
get  rid  of  it.  It's  over  yonder  on  Shawnee  Street, 
and  we'd  better  look  it  over  and  see  what  sort  of 
a  bargain  we  can  make." 

nickname  "Wild  Bill"  soon  became  so  firmly  fixed  that  few  people 
knew  his  real  name. 

Wild  Bill  was  the  son  of  New  England  parents,  born  in  Vermont, 
who  moved  to  New  York  immediately  after  their  marriage,  which 
occurred  in  1829  or  1830.  From  New  York  they  moved  to  Illinois, 
settling  first  in  Putnam  County  and  later  in  La  Salle  County.  Here, 
near  the  village  of  Troy  Grove,  the  son,  James  Butler,  was  born,  on 
May  27,  1837. 

He  went  West  when  only  a  boy'  and  for  some  time  served  as  scout 
at  different  military  posts  and  afterward  as  marshal  and  sheriff  in 
various  new  towns  in  Kansas.  He  was  a  man  of  unflinching  courage 
and  a  natural  shot  with  the  pistol  and  had  many  extraordinary  ad- 
ventures, in  all  of  which  he  was  successful.  A  remarkable  incident 
told  of  him  was  the  killing  of  Jake  McCandless  and  his  gang  of  twelve 
men  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  near  Fort  Hayes,  Kansas. 

In  1873  or  1874,  with  William  F.  Cody  and  John  Omohundro  and 
a  number  of  Pawnee  Indians,  he  appeared  for  a  short  time  on  the 
stage  in  one  of  Ned  Buntline's  dramas  of  the  plains,  but  his  career 
as  an  actor  was  brief. 

In  March,  1876,  Wild  Bill  was  married  to  Mrs.  Agnes  Thatcher 
Lake  and  that  summer  went  to  the  Black  Hills,  where  he  prospected. 
Here,  in  Deadwood,  South  Dakota,  August  2, 1876,  he  was  murdered, 
while  playing  cards,  by  Jack  McCall,  who  walked  up  behind  him  and 
shot  him  in  the  back  of  the  head.  McCall  was  tried  at  Deadwood 
and  acquitted.  Subsequently  he  was  rearrested  by  Colonel  N.  J. 
O'Brien,  then  sheriff  of  Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  and  was  taken  to 
Dakota,  tried,  convicted,  and  executed  during  February,  1877. 

Wild  Bill  was  in  no  sense  a  desperado.  He  was  a  mild-mannered, 
pleasant  man  who  avoided  trouble  when  it  was  possible,  but  when 
trouble  came  he  met  it  with  a  strong  heart. 

19 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

By  this  time  we  were  all  heading  for  Jim  Brown's 
livery  stable.  There  we  found  the  wagon  in  the 
back  lot,  and  the  team,  a  good  pair  of  mules,  in 
the  barn.  When  we  had  looked  over  the  well  ap- 
pointed rig  and  made  a  rough  estimate  of  its  prob- 
able value  we  began  to  fear  that  the  owners  would 
ask  more  than  we  could  pay  for  it.  Wild  Bill  was 
absent. 

I  asked:  "What  do  you  think  of  the  outfit, 
Tom?" 

"It's  one  of  the  best  camp  equipments  I  ever 
saw,"  replied  Tom,  "but  I  am  afraid  it's  too  rich 
for  our  blood.  Those  mules  and  harness  alone 
would  be  cheap  at  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
The  wagon  is  easy  worth  another  hundred  dollars, 
and  there  is  no  telling  what  the  camp  outfit  cost. 
They  must  have  let  Bill  fit  things  up  to  his  own 
notion,  and  Bill  never  did  know  the  value  of 
money.  It  may  be,  as  Bill  said,  that  they  don't 
expect  much  for  it  and  they'll  let  us  have  it  cheap 
as  dirt.  We'd  better  be  quick,  if  we  can,  before 
some  one  else  snaps  it  up." 

"Here  comes  Wild  Bill  himself!"  exclaimed 
Jack;  and  sure  enough,  that  first  of  frontier  scouts, 
in  beaded  buckskins  and  with  his  long,  tawny  hair 
hanging  down  his  back,  came  striding  through  the 
barn  to  meet  us.  Bill  confirmed  what  Jack  had 
told  us,  and  said  that  as  these  young  men  seemed,, 
to  have  more  money  than  they  knew  what  to  do 
with  he  had  rigged  up  as  good  an  outfit  as  he  knew 

20 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

how.  He  continued:  "The  wagons,  mules,  har- 
ness, camp  outfit,  and  some  grub  left  over  is  for 
sale,  but  their  riding  horses  are  not  for  sale.  They 
are  to  be  shipped  on  the  cars  back  to  New  York. 
They  Ve  got  a  couple  of  pretty  fair  broncos  which 
they  got  here  at  starting,  and  they'll  sell  you  them, 
or  throw  them  in  for  good  measure.  What  will 
you  give  me  for  the  whole  lot?" 

Tom  asked  if  he  was  willing  to  let  us  unload  the 
wagon  and  look  at  its  contents,  to  which  Bill  as- 
sented. We  found  it  an  extraordinarily  complete 
camp  outfit,  with  many  duplicate  parts  for  the 
wagon,  a  Sibley  tent,  a  sheet-iron  cook-stove,  a 
mess-chest,  and  a  complete  mess-kit,  or  cooking 
outfit.  There  was  a  large  amount  of  provisions  left 
over.  The  wagon  and  the  animals  were  good  and 
the  broncos  had  saddles  and  bridles. 

While  we  were  unpacking  the  wagon  Bill  told 
us  something  about  the  trip,  which,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  hunters,  had  been  very  successful, 
though  commonplace  enough  as  Bill  saw  it.  When 
the  examination  was  completed  Bill  asked:  "What 
do  you  think  of  the  outfit,  Tom,  and  what  will 
you  give  me  for  the  whole  caboodle?" 

"It's  a  good  rig,  and  no  mistake,"  replied  Tom 
with  a  seemingly  hopeless  sigh,  "but,  Bill,  I  am 
afraid  we  haven't  money  enough  to  buy  it.  The 
outfit  was  all  right  for  your  purposes,  but  we'll 
have  to  buy  a  lot  more  things  and  must  have 
some  money  left  after  buying  a  team  and  camp 

21 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 
outfit.      To    buy   your    outfit    would    clean    us 


out/ 


"Well,"  said  Bill,  "make  a  bid  of  what  you  can 
afford  to  give,  not  what  it's  worth.  They  do  not 
expect  to  get  what  it's  worth." 

"It  sounds  like  a  mighty  small  price,  Bill,  and 
I'm  ashamed  to  make  you  the  offer,"  said  Tom 
hesitatingly,  "but  two  hundred  dollars  is  as  much 
as  we  can  afford  to  give  and  still  buy  our  other 
truck.  Would  your  men  consider  such  a  bid  as 
that?" 

"Boys,  that  does  seem  like  giving  the  outfit 
away,  and  until  I  see  my  men  I  won't  say  whether 
they'll  take  it  or  not,  but  I'll  talk  for  you  a  little 
and  help  you  out  all  I  can.  They  told  me  to  sell 
the  rig  for  whatever  I  could  get,  and  I'll  tell 
them  that  two  hundred  dollars  is  the  best  offer  I 
have  had — it's  the  only  one;  if  they  say  it's  a  go 
the  outfit  is  yours." 

As  we  stood  on  a  corner  near  the  levee  awaiting 
Bill's  return  we  heard  the  long,  hoarse  whistle  of 
a  steamboat,  and  saw  one  approaching  from  down 
the  river,  though  still  some  distance  away.  A 
little  later  Bill  came  hurrying  out  of  the  hotel 
and  gladdened  our  hearts  by  telling  us  that  our 
offer  had  been  accepted.  His  men  >were  to  take 
the  approaching  steamer  to  Saint  Joe,  and  he 
must  hurry  back  to  Brown's  stable  and  help  get 
their  fine  hunting-horses  aboard  the  boat. 

I  counted  him  out  the  two  hundred  dollars, 
22 


WE  FIND  AN  OUTFIT 

which  he  stuffed  in  his  pocket  without  recounting. 
We  had  bought  for  two  hundred  dollars  an  outfit 
worth  at  least  five  hundred  dollars. 

We  soon  had  the  six  fine  horses  on  board  the 
boat.  Bill  went  up  to  the  cabin  to  turn  over  the 
money  we  had  paid  him.  Soon  the  steamer's  big 
bell  clanged,  and  just  as  the  deck-hands  were 
about  to  pull  in  the  gangplank,  Bill  came  run- 
ning out  and  turned  and  waved  good-by  to  his 
employers,  who  stood  on  the  hurricane-deck. 

In  the  autumn  of  1861  there  was  no  railroad  in 
Kansas,  and  the  nearest  point  to  reach  the  cars 
going  east  from  Leavenworth  would  have  been 
Weston,  six  or  eight  miles  above,  on  the  Missouri 
side  of  the  river.  The  railroad  from  Saint  Joseph 
east  was  patrolled  by  Union  soldiers,  to  protect 
the  bridges  and  keep  it  open  for  travel. 


CHAPTER  IV 
BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

AS  we  started  back  up-town  Bill  exclaimed 
gleefully: 

"Well,  boys,  what  do  you  think?  When  I 
offered  them  fellows  the  money  you  paid  me  for 
the  outfit  they  would  not  take  a  dollar  of  it,  but 
told  me  to  keep  it  for  an  advance  payment — a 
sort  of  retaining  fee — for  my  services  next  sea- 
son. They're  coming  out  again  next  spring  with 
a  bigger  party  and  made  me  promise  to  meet 
them  here  and  go  with  them." 

After  Bill  left  us  Tom  said:  "Bill  never  did 
know  the  value  of  money.  He  could  just  as  well 
as  not  have  had  the  whole  outfit  that  he  sold  us 
or,  if  he  didn't  want  to  keep  it,  could  have  sold 
it  for  twice  what  we  paid  him  for  it.  But  he's  a 
free-hearted,  generous  fellow  and  never  thought 
of  it.  He's  brave  as  a  lion;  never  was  known  to 
do  a  mean  or  cowardly  trick;  a  dead  shot.  I  am 
afraid,  though,  that  he  will  die  with  his  boots  on, 
and  die  young,  too." 

When  we  got  back  to  the  stable  we  found  Jim 
Brown,  the  proprietor,  there,  and  Tom  told  him 
that  we  had  bought  the  wagon,  mules,  broncos, 
and  so  forth,  and  would  pay  his  charges  before 

24 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

taking  them  away,  as  soon  as  Wild  Bill  came 
around  to  confirm  the  sale. 

"Now,  men,"  said  the  veteran,  when  we  reached 
our  boarding-house,  "we're  beginnin'  to  see  our 
way  toward  gettin'  out  of  this  town,  an*  the 
sooner  the  better,  I  say;  but  we've  got  to  do  some 
more  plannin'.  I'll  give  you  my  plans,  an*  if  you 
can  suggest  better  ways,  all  right.  To-morrow 
mornin'  we'll  pay  our  bills,  an'  then  we'll  hitch 
up  an'  pull  out  onto  that  open  ground  out  t'other 
side  of  Broadway  and  camp  there  an'  go  to 
work  gettin'  ready  to  leave  here.  In  camp  we 
can  overhaul  the  outfit  an'  see  just  exactly  what 
more  we  need." 

"Nothing  could  be  better,"  chipped  in  Jack. 

"Same  here,"  I  added.  "Now  tell  us  what  to 
do  to  get  ready  for  travelling?" 

"Hold  on,"  said  Tom,  "I've  got  another  sug- 
gestion to  offer.  We're  going  to  have  a  heap 
heavier  load  than  them  hunters  had,  an'  I'm  in 
favor  of  gettin'  a  pair  of  lead  harness  an'  spread- 
ers an'  putting  them  broncos  on  for  leaders  an' 
work  four  going  out.  We'll  want  to  take  about 
five  months'  supplies  for  ourselves  an'  what  grain 
we  can  haul  to  help  our  animals  through  the  win- 
ter, an'  all  that  will  make  too  much  of  a  load  for 
the  mules  alone.  We  can't  afford  to  feed  our 
stock  full  rations  of  grain,  but  they  ought  to  have 
some  to  help  'em  through  the  worst  weather  an' 
keep  'em  from  gettin'  too  poor." 

25 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"That's  a  good  idea;  but  what  if  the  mustangs 
won't  work?"  suggested  Jack.  "It's  a  common 
trick  with  their  sort  to  balk  in  harness,  though 
they  may  be  good  under  the  saddle." 

"I  know  that,"  replied  Tom,  "an'  so  we  want 
that  question  settled  right  here.  Ef  one  or  both 
of  'em  refuses  to  pull  we'll  trade  'em  off  for  some- 
thing that'll  work." 

On  going  over  to  the  stable  next  morning  before 
breakfast  to  give  the  team  a  rubbing  down,  I 
found  Jack  there  ahead  of  me,  hard  at  work  with 
currycomb  and  horse  brush,  grooming  the  stock. 

Brown  told  us  that  Bill  had  called  and  said  he 
should  let  us  have  the  outfit  when  we  came  for  it. 

After  breakfast,  while  Tom  went  down  street 
to  a  second-hand  store  and  bought  lead  harness 
and  spreaders  for  the  mustangs,  Jack  and  I  har- 
nessed the  mules  and  put  all  our  belongings  into 
the  wagon.  We  were  delighted  to  find  that  the 
broncos  when  hitched  up  walked  away  like  old 
work  horses,  which  they  evidently  were. 

Moving  out  Shawnee  Street,  beyond  Broadway, 
where  there  was  open  ground  for  camping,  we 
made  camp  near  a  little  creek  and,  after  unloading 
the  wagon,  gave  everything  a  general  overhauling 
to  determine  what  more  we  needed  to  fully  equip 
us  for  the  trip. 

We  had  noticed  a  nice-looking  black  shepherd 
dog  around  Brown's  stable  that  we  had  supposed 
belonged  to  Brown;  but  now  discovered  that  it 

26 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

was  the  property  of  Wild  Bill.  The  dog  seemed 
to  be  very  intelligent  and  his  owner  prized  him 
highly. 

After  establishing  our  camp  our  commander,  old 
Tom,  gave  his  orders,  as  occasion  suggested,  and 
Jack  and  I  promptly  executed  them. 

"One  of  us  must  always  be  in  camp,"  said  the 
old  man,  "for  we  don't  know  what  prowler  might 
come  along  an*  steal  somethin'  if  we  ain't  here 
to  watch  things.  Now,  for  to-day,  I'll  be  camp 
guard  while  you  youngsters  do  the  foraging. 
First  thing,  Jack,  you  an'  Peck  light  out  an'  hunt 
up  some  wood  to  cook  with." 

As  the  camp-stove  would  be  so  much  handier 
and  more  economical  of  fuel  than  an  open  fire,  we 
had  taken  it  out  of  the  wagon  and  placed  it  on  the 
ground,  with  the  mess-chest  near  by — just  behind 
the  wagon — and,  after  pitching  the  tent,  moved 
the  stove  inside. 

Jack  and  I  skirmished  along  the  creek,  and  each 
gathered  an  armful  of  wood  which  we  broke  up 
into  stove  lengths,  while  Tom  busied  himself 
overhauling  the  mess-chest  and  cooking  utensils. 

When  we  had  finished  our  job  Tom  gave  another 
order: 

"Now,  while  you're  restin'  Jack,  you  take  the 
two  mules,  an',  Peck,  you  take  the  two  broncos, 
an'  go  back  up  the  street  to  that  blacksmith  shop 
just  this  side  of  the  Mansion  House  an'  git  'em 
shod  all  'round.  That'll  take  about  all  forenoon. 

27 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

An'  while  the  blacksmith  is  workin*  on  'em  one 
of  you  can  stay  there  an'  the  other  can  go  to  a 
meat  market  an'  git  a  piece  of  fresh  meat  an' 
bring  it  out  to  camp  right  away  so  that  I  can  put 
it  on  to  cook  for  dinner.  While  you're  gettin'  the 
meat,  bring  a  loaf  or  two  of  soft  bread,  too.  We've 
got  plenty  of  hardtack  in  the  wagon,  but  we'd 
better  use  baker's  bread  while  we're  in  reach  of  it 
an'  save  the  hardtack  to  use  on  the  road,  in 
camps  where  fuel  is  scarce." 

Leaving  Jack  at  the  blacksmith's  shop  to  attend 
to  the  shoeing  of  the  team,  I  carried  out  Tom's 
various  instructions. 

While  a  kettle  of  bean  soup  was  boiling  Tom 
was  busy  rearranging  things  in  the  mess-chest  and 
wagon.  Fearing  that  he  might  neglect  the  soup 
and  let  it  scorch,  I  asked: 

"Tom,  is  there  any  danger  of  the  beans  stick- 
ing to  the  bottom  of  the  camp-kettle  and  burn- 
ing?" 

"What  do  you  take  me  for,  young  fellow?"  he 
retorted  indignantly.  "Do  you  s'pose  I've  been 
a-cookin'  an'  eatin'  Uncle  Sam's  beans  all  these 
years  an'  ain't  learnt  how  to  cook  bean  soup  with- 
out burnin'  it?  Ef  that  soup  scorches  I'll  agree 
to  eat  the  whole  mess." 

"Of  course  you  know  how  to  cook  'em,"  I  said 
apologetically,  "but  I  noticed  the  beans  are  get- 
tin'  soft  and  thought  maybe  while  you  was  busy 
at  something  else  they  might  get  burnt." 

28 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

"Ain't  you  never  learnt  how  to  keep  beans 
from  stickin'  to  the  bottom  of  the  camp-kettle?" 

"No,  except  to  keep  stirring  them,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  I  didn't  think  you'd  a-got  through  five 
years  of  soldierin'  on  the  plains  without  learnin' 
how  to  keep  beans  from  burning.  Now,  I'll  tell 
you  of  a  trick  that's  worth  a  dozen  of  stirrin'  'em 
when  you've  got  somethin'  else  to  do  besides 
standin'  by  the  kettle  an'  watchin'  'em.  When 
your  beans  begin  to  git  soft  just  drop  two  or  three 
metal  spoons  into  the  camp-kettle,  then  go  on 
about  your  business,  an'  long  as  they  don't  bile 
dry  they  won't  burn.  You  savvy  the  philosophy 
of  it?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Well,  it's  just  this:  the  heat  keeps  the  spoons 
a-dancin'  around  in  the  bottom  of  the  kettle,  an' 
that  keeps  the  beans  from  settlin'  an'  burning. 
Savvy?  Easy  as  rollin'  off  a  log  when  it's  ex- 
plained to  you,  ain't  it?" 

After  getting  back  to  camp  with  the  mules  and 
broncos  newly  shod,  we  had  just  taken  our  seats 
around  our  mess-box  table  when  who  should  ride 
up  but  Wild  Bill.  He  had  heard  from  Brown  of 
our  move  and  came  out  to  see  how  we  were  fixed. 
As  he  reined  up  near  us  Jack  saluted  him  with: 

"Get  down,  Bill,  an'  hitch  your  hoss  an'  watch 


me  eat.' 


"Not  by  a  durned  sight,  Jack;  I  can  do  a  heap 
better  than  that,"  replied  the  scout,  too  familiar 

29 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

with  the  rough  hospitality  of  the  frontier  to  wait 
for  a  more  formal  invitation;  "but  if  you've  got 
time  to  watch  me  eat  I'll  show  you  how  to  do  it." 

He  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  the  wagon, 
turned  up  a  water  bucket  for  a  seat,  and  sat  down 
to  dinner  with  us.  "The  smell  of  that  bean  soup 
catches  me." 

As  a  surprise,  when  we  had  nearly  finished  Tom 
went  to  the  oven  and  brought  out  a  couple  of  nice 
hot  pies. 

"What  a  blessin'  it  is,  sure,"  said  Jack,  "to 
have  somethin'  to  cook  an'  somebody  that  knows 
how  to  cook  it!" 

"Well,"  replied  Tom,  "it's  better  than  having  a 
surplus  of  cooks  an'  no  rations — a  state  of  affairs 
we  all  know  something  about." 

"I  was  just  a-goin'  to  remark,"  added  Bill, 
"that  I  see  you've  got  a  good  cook  in  the  outfit,  an' 
that's  no  small  help.  I  always  knew  Tom  was  a 
first-class  soldier,  an'  now  I've  found  out  another 
of  his  accomplishments.  Boys,  I  expect  to  be  out 
to  Fort  Larned  before  long,  an'  if  I  ever  strike 
your  trail  out  in  that  neighborhood  I'll  sure 
foller  it  up  an'  invite  myself  to  take  a  square  meal 
with  you  once  in  a  while." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  ye  right  now,  Bill,  you'll  always 
be  welcome,"  said  Jack,  while  Tom  and  I  added: 
"Second  the  motion." 

"My  special  errand  out  here,"  said  Bill  as  he 
unhitched  his  horse  and  prepared  to  mount,  "was 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

to  tell  you  that  when  you  get  ready  to  lay  in  your 
supplies  for  the  trip  I  think  you  can  do  better 
to  buy  'em  of  Tom  Carney*  than  anywhere  else 
in  town.  There's  where  I  bought  the  truck  for 
our  trip,  an'  I  found  his  prices  reasonable,  an' 
everything  was  satisfactory  an'  packed  in  good 
shape.  Tom's  accommodatin',  an'  reliable,  and 
an  all-round  good  fellow  to  trade  with." 

While  standing  by  his  horse  Bill's  dog  had  taken 
post  in  front  of  him  and  by  wagging  his  tail  and 
looking  up  at  his  master  was  trying  to  attract  his 
notice,  seeing  which  the  scout  stooped  down  and 
began  talking  to  his  canine  friend  and  patting  him 
affectionately,  which  seemed  to  put  the  dog  in  an 
ecstasy  of  delight. 

"Bill,"  said  Tom,  "I've  been  wondering  ef  we 
couldn't  manage  some  way  to  beat  you  out  of 
that  dog.  Don't  you  want  to  git  rid  of  him?" 

"No,  Tom,"  replied  the  scout,  "money  wouldn't 
buy  that  dog.  But  there's  been  two  or  three  at- 
tempts made  to  steal  him  from  me  since  I've  been 
here  in  town — I  come  pretty  nigh  having  to  kill  a 
feller  about  him  just  the  other  day — an',  seeing  as 
he's  taken  such  a  shine  to  you  fellers,  I  was 
thinkin'  of  gettin'  you  to  take  him  along  with  you 
out  to  Larned  an'  leave  him  with  somebody  there 
to  keep  for  me  till  I  come  out;  or  maybe  you'd 
keep  him  with  your  outfit." 

*  Tom  Carney,  wholesale  groceryman  of  Leavenworth  City,  was, 
a  year  or  two  later,  elected  governor  of  Kansas. 

31 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Just  the  thing!"  exclaimed  Jack.  "We'll  take 
him  along,  all  right,  an'  we  won't  leave  him  at  Fort 
Lamed,  either — we'll  keep  him  till  you  call  for 
him." 

"Well,  boys,  I  b'lieve  he'll  be  useful  to  you,  for 
he's  a  shepherd  an'  takes  to  minding  stock  natu- 
rally, an'  he's  a  good  all-round  watch-dog — one  of 
the  smartest  I  ever  saw.  I  call  him  'Found/ 
'cause  I  found  him  when  he  seemed  to  be  lost. 
You'll  have  to  keep  him  tied  up  for  a  few  days 
when  you  leave  here;  after  that,  I  think,  he'll  stick 
to  you,  'cause  he's  been  used  to  lookin'  after  them 
mules  an'  ponies  all  summer.  But,  mind  you,  now, 
I  ain't  a-givin'  him  to  you — only  lendin'  him." 

"All  right,  Bill;  he's  your  dog,"  said  Tom,  "an* 
we'll  take  good  care  of  him  till  you  want  him." 
Thus  Found  became  one  of  us. 

That  afternoon  Tom  began  the  work  of  esti- 
mating the  supplies  that  we  would  need  for  our 
winter's  trip,  endeavoring  to  calculate  the  quan- 
tity of  each  item  of  the  provisions  and  from  that 
the  weight  that  we  would  have  to  haul  in  our 
wagon.  As  an  old  soldier,  he  made  his  figures  on 
the  basis  of  rations — one  man's  allowance  of  each 
article  of  food  for  one  day.  He  said: 

"We'll  make  our  estimate  at  about  the  rate  of 
government  rations,  but,  as  we  don't  have  to  re- 
strict ourselves  exactly  to  Uncle  Sam's  allowance 
we'll  allow  a  margin  in  some  things  to  suit  our 


own  notions." 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

Tom  calculated  that  about  four  months'  rations 
for  three  men  ought  to  be  enough  to  carry  us  from 
the  middle  of  October  to  the  middle  of  February, 
and  he  told  me  to  make  my  requisition  for  four 
hundred  rations  of  each  article  and  set  down  the 
number  of  pounds'  weight  of  each  as  I  went 
along. 

"Of  breadstuff's,"  he  said,  "we  ought  to  take 
about  three  fourths  flour — three  hundred  pounds 
— and  one  fourth  hardtack — one  hundred  pounds. 
That'll  make  four  hundred  pounds  of  freight. 
Then,  as  an  extra,  a  sack  of  corn-meal — fifty 
pounds. 

"As  we'll  be  able  to  kill  plenty  of  wild  meat, 
two  hundred  rations  of  bacon  will  be  enough.  At 
three  fourths  of  a  pound  to  the  ration,  that  will 
be  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 

So  he  went  through  the  list  of  beans,  rice,  hom- 
iny, coffee,  tea,  and  sugar,  with  vinegar,  salt,  pep- 
per, yeast-powder,  together  with  two  hundred 
pounds  of  potatoes  and  one  hundred  pounds  of 
onions.  With  some  dried  fruit  and  soap  the  total 
weight  came  to  one  thousand  five  hundred  and 
forty-one  pounds,  to  which  he  added  one  thousand 
pounds  of  corn,  as  feed  for  the  animals  during  the 
worst  weather.  He  purposed  to  take  also  a  scythe 
and  hay-fork  and,  as  soon  as  we  got  into  camp, 
to  cut  hay  and  make  a  stack  as  added  provision 
against  bad  weather.  These  things,  together  with 
all  the  camp  equipment  to  be  carried,  would 

33 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

make  a  load  of  not  far  from  three  thousand 
pounds  for  the  animals. 

To  this  load  I  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  good 
idea  to  add  some  interesting  books  to  read  at 
night,  and  I  told  him  that  I  purposed  to  subscribe 
for  some  weekly  papers  which  would  give  the 
news  of  current  events. 

Wild  Bill's  skill  in  plains  travel  was  evident  in 
many  things  about  the  outfit  we  had  bought.  He 
had  fastened  straps  on  the  outside  of  the  wagon- 
box  to  carry  the  tent-pole,  tripod,  and  stovepipe, 
and  on  the  opposite  side  to  hold  the  axe,  pick,  and 
shovel,  so  that  when  needed  on  the  road  or  in 
camp  the  tools  would  be  at  hand. 

On  the  plains  one  must  be  prepared  to  encounter 
strong  winds  at  any  and  all  times,  and  often  vio- 
lent storms,  and  on  this  account  we  commended 
Bill's  judgment  in  having  selected  a  Sibley  in- 
stead of  a  wall  tent;  for  the  Sibley  is  in  many 
respects  a  most  serviceable  tent. 

It  is  conical  in  shape,  like  the  Indian  lodge, 
but  in  other  respects  it  is  far  superior  to  the  red 
man's  habitation.  It  requires  but  a  single  short 
pole  which  rests  on  an  iron  tripod,  by  pushing 
together  or  spreading  apart  the  feet  of  which 
the  canvas  is  easily  stretched  tight  or  slackened. 
The  aperture  at  the  top  for  the  escape  of  smoke  is 
provided  with  a  canvas  cap  which  can  be  shifted 
so  as  to  keep  its  back  to  the  wind,  thus  insuring 
a  clear  exit  for  the  smoke.  Two  opposite  doors 

34 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 


secure  at  least  one  entrance  and  exit  away  from 
the  wind.  Its  advantages  over  the  wall-tent  for 
withstanding  stormy  weather  and  for  comfort 
and  convenience  are  generally  admitted  by  all 
old  campers. 

The  inventor  of  this  most  excellent  tent  was  a 
private  soldier  in  the  Second  Dragoons,  whom  I 


often  saw  at  Fort  Bridger,  Utah,  in  '58,  but  whose 
name  I  have  forgotten. 

The  next  day  we  drove  down-town  and  bought 
our  supplies  and  on  returning  to  camp  loaded 
the  wagon  for  the  trip  to  the  plains,  as  Tom  di- 
rected. 

"Put  the  heaviest  truck,  such  as  the  sacks  of 
corn  and  flour,  in  the  bottom  an'  well  toward  the 
forward  end/'  said  he,  "an'  such  things  as  the 
mess  box  an'  stove — that  we'll  be  using  a  good 
deal  on  the  road — in  the  hind  end,  where  they'll  be 

35 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

handy  to  git  out  of  the  wagon.  The  tent  an'  our 
bundles  of  bedding  can  go  on  top.  The  camp- 
stools,  buckets,  an'  camp-kettles  can  be  tied  on 
outside.  An',  mind  you,  everything  must  be 
stowed  away  snug  or  we  won't  be  able  to  get  our 
truck  all  on  the  wagon." 

Stripping  the  wagon-sheets  off  the  bows,  we 
packed  the  wagon  to  the  best  advantage,  leaving 
at  the  hind  end  a  vacant  space  to  receive  the  mess- 
chest  and  stove.  Replacing  the  sheets,  we  tied 
them  down  snugly  to  the  wagon-box,  all  around, 
to  be  prepared  for  rainy  weather. 

Tom,  who  once  had  served  as  hospital  steward, 
had  learned  something  of  the  use  of  medicines, 
and  during  our  stay  in  Leavenworth  he  fitted  up 
a  small  medicine-chest  and  stocked  it  with  such 
remedies  as  he  knew  how  to  use,  to  be  prepared 
for  emergencies. 

"You  may  not  need  'em  very  often,"  he  re- 
marked; "y°u  may  never  need  'em;  but,  as  Wild 
Bill  says  of  his  pistols,  when  you  do  need  'em 
you'll  need  'em  bad." 

As  we  were  to  pull  out  in  the  morning,  Wild 
Bill  rode  out  to  our  camp  that  evening  to  take 
supper  with  us.  The  evening  was  pleasantly 
passed  with  music  from  Jack's  fiddle,  singing  by  all 
hands,  and  wound  up  by  a  jig  danced  by  Wild 
Bill  which  astonished  and  delighted  us  all. 

As  Wild  Bill  was  mounting  his  horse  to  return 
to  town,  Tom  took  the  precaution  to  chain  the 

36 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

dog,  Found,  to  a  wheel  of  the  wagon,  to  prevent 
him  from  following  his  master. 

Our  commander,  old  Tom,  had  given  orders  for 
an  early  start  next  morning,  and  before  daylight 
his  call,  "Turn  out,  men!"  routed  us  out  of  our 
blankets.  Tom  got  breakfast,  while  Jack  and  I 
fed  the  team  and  then  groomed  and  harnessed 
them  while  they  ate. 

We  intended  to  feed  them  well  on  grain  as  long 
as  we  were  in  the  settlements,  where  it  was  plenty 
and  cheap;  but  after  getting  beyond  Council 
Grove  there  would  be  no  more  settlements,  and 
consequently  no  grain  to  be  bought  along  the 
road,  and,  as  the  grain  we  were  hauling  would 
be  needed  later  to  carry  our  animals  through  the 
cold  of  winter,  they  would  have  to  depend  on  the 
grass  after  leaving  the  settlements. 

Daylight  was  upon  us  when  we  had  finished 
eating,  and,  all  hands  turning  to,  the  dishes  were 
soon  washed  and  packed  away,  the  wagon  loaded, 
the  team  hitched  up,  the  fire  put  out,  and  we  were 
off. 

Our  team  was  fat,  frisky,  and  well  rested,  and 
walked  away  with  its  load  with  ease;  but,  fol- 
lowing our  soldier  training  in  starting  out  for  a 
long  trip,  we  made  short,  easy  drives  for  the  first 
few  days,  gradually  increasing  them  till  we  reached 
the  maximum — about  twenty-five  miles  a  day. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Leavenworth  we  met  our 
old  friends  the  bull-whackers,  with  whom  we  had 

37 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

made  the  first  part  of  our  trip  on  starting  from 
Fort  Wise.  They  were  just  getting  in  with  their 
train,  as  dirty  and  jolly  as  ever.  We  were  grati- 
fied to  realize  that  we  had  gained  so  much  time 
and  avoided  so  much  dirt  by  transferring  to  the 
mule  train  at  the  Santa  Fe  crossing  of  the  Ar- 
kansas River. 

Later  we  met  more  bull  trains  and  other  freight- 
ing outfits  coming  in  but  found  few  going  west. 
At  this  season  most  people  were  inclined  to  seek 
the  friendly  shelter  and  comforts  of  the  settle- 
ments rather  than  to  brave  the  inclemencies  and 
dangers  of  the  bleak  plains. 

Among  the  travellers  whom  we  met  coming  in 
was  an  occasional  outfit  of  "busted  Pike's  Peak- 
ers,"  as  unfortunate  and  discouraged  miners  re- 
turning from  the  Pike's  Peak  gold  region  were 
called.  Most  of  these  gave  doleful  accounts  of 
life  and  prospects  in  the  Colorado  mines. 

For  a  few  days  after  leaving  Leavenworth  we 
kept  the  dog,  Found,  tied  up,  lest  he  should  go 
back  to  his  master;  but  we  were  all  kind  to  him, 
and  he  showed  no  inclination  to  quit  our  company, 
and  when  we  turned  him  loose  again  he  con- 
tentedly remained  with  our  outfit. 

We  found  the  roads  fine  and  the  weather  real 
Indian  summer;  days  hazy,  warm,  and  pleasant, 
nights  cool,  and  mornings  frosty,  as  is  usual  on 
the  plains  at  this  the  most  pleasant  time  of  the 
year. 

38 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

While  in  the  settlements  we  indulged  in  such 
luxuries  as  milk,  butter,  eggs,  and  so  forth,  when- 
ever they  were  to  be  bought,  and  we  killed  plenty 
of  prairie-chickens  with  our  shotgun. 

These  prairie-chickens  were  very  numerous  in 
the  Kansas  settlements,  occurring  in  such  multi- 
tudes that  they  were  pests  to  the  farmers,  eating 
great  quantities  of  grain.  They  haunted  the  set- 
tled country  or  grain-producing  parts  but  were 
seldom  found  far  out  on  the  plains,  though  while 
in  the  service  I  saw  a  few  as  far  west  as  the  Big 
Bend  of  the  Arkansas. 

In  the  army  the  Sibley  tent  was  calculated  to 
hold  twelve  to  sixteen  men — crowded  pretty  close 
together — but  in  our  Sibley,  with  only  the  three 
occupants,  there  was  room  for  stove,  mess-chest, 
camp-stools,  or  anything  else  we  might  bring 
inside.  Found  always  made  his  bed  under  the 
wagon,  where  he  could  keep  watch  over  the  ani- 
mals and  act  as  general  camp  guard. 

In  order  to  favor  our  team  we  made  two  drives 
a  day,  stopping  for  an  hour  or  so  at  noon  to  turn 
the  animals  out  on  the  grass,  while  we  made  cof- 
fee and  ate  some  cold  meat  and  bread.  On  our 
afternoon  drive,  as  night  approached,  we  selected 
a  convenient  place  and  camped,  turning  out  the 
team — except  the  flea-bitten  gray  mare,  which 
we  always  picketed  as  an  anchor  to  the  rest. 
After  supper,  sprawled  on  our  beds  in  the  tent, 
we  talked  and  spun  yarns. 

39 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Tom  having  served  three  enlistments — fifteen 
years — and  Jack  two,  while  I  had  only  five  years' 
service  as  a  soldier  to  my  credit,  I  was  considered 
a  raw  recruit  and  usually  listened  while  they 
talked.  When  in  a  musical  mood,  Jack  got  out 
his  fiddle  and  played  and  sang. 

We  seldom  lit  a  candle  at  night,  for  we  had 
only  one  box  of  candles  and  knew  that  before 
us  were  many  long  winter  evenings  when  lights 
would  be  more  needed  than  now.  We  had  found, 
rolled  up  in  the  tent,  an  infantry  bayonet — the 
best  kind  of  a  camp  candlestick.  When  we  had 
occasion  to  light  a  candle  we  appreciated  its 
convenience. 

Since  we  first  came  from  the  plains  into  the 
Kansas  settlements  we  had  heard  much  said  about 
jayhawkers.  The  term  jayhawking  as  used  then 
was  a  modified  expression  for  theft  or  robbery, 
but  was  applied  more  particularly  to  the  depre- 
dations of  gangs  of  armed  and  mounted  ruffians, 
who,  taking  advantage  of  the  turbulent  condition 
of  affairs  resulting  from  the  war — the  civil  law 
being  impotent  or  altogether  lacking  in  many 
parts  of  the  scattering  settlements  of  Kansas- 
roamed  at  will  through  the  country,  hovering  es- 
pecially along  main  thoroughfares  and  helping 
themselves  to  other  people's  property.  Some- 
times they  professed  to  be  volunteer  soldiers  or 
government  agents  sent  out  to  gather  in  good 
horses,  mules,  or  other  property  for  the  use  of 

40 


BACK  TO  THE  BUFFALO  RANGE 

Uncle  Sam,  giving  bogus  receipts  for  what  they 
took  and  saying  that  these  receipts  would  be 
honored  and  paid  on  their  presentation  to  any 
government  quartermaster — which,  of  course,  was 
pure  fiction. 

Where  they  failed  to  get  what  they  wanted  by 
other  methods  they  did  not  hesitate  to  use  vio- 
lence, even  to  killing  those  who  resisted  their 
demands. 

Such  were  the  Kansas  jayhawkers  of  those 
times,  whom  we  had  hoped  to  escape  meeting; 
but  we  had  talked  much  of  the  possibilities  and 
probabilities  of  such  an  encounter  and  had  de- 
cided on  certain  plans  of  action  to  frustrate  the 
probable  movements  of  any  jayhawkers  whom  we 
might  meet.  We  did  not  propose  to  be  robbed 
and  stood  ready  to  put  up  a  strong  bluff  and,  if 
necessary,  to  fight  to  defend  our  property.  In 
view  of  a  possible  fight,  arms  were  to  be  kept  in 
order  and  ammunition  handy. 

We  had  nearly  reached  Council  Grove  without 
encountering  any  jayhawkers  and  had  begun  to 
flatter  ourselves  that  we  were  going  to  slip  through 
the  settlements  without  having  trouble  with  them. 
At  one  or  two  places  along  the  road,  however,  we 
had  heard  that  a  party  of  jayhawkers  had  lately 
been  seen  on  the  route  ahead  of  us,  and  we  had 
been  cautioned  to  look  out  for  them. 


CHAPTER  V 
WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS 


day,  on  stopping  at  a  store  to  buy  some 
feed,  just  before  reaching  the  crossing  of  a 
timbered  creek,  we  noticed  two  saddled  horses 
hitched  to  the  fence  and  on  entering  the  store 
found  two  well-armed,  rough-looking  fellows  loung- 
ing about,  one  of  whom  seemed  to  be  half  tipsy. 
The  store  was  also  a  post-office  and  presided  over 
by  a  very  old  man. 

While  Tom  and  the  storekeeper  retired  to  a 
back  room  to  measure  out  some  grain,  the  two 
ruffians  began  to  manifest  considerable  interest 
in  our  affairs,  asking  many  questions,  to  all  of 
which  Jack  and  I,  who  had  left  the  team  stand- 
ing in  the  road  and  walked  up  to  the  store,  gave 
rather  curt  answers. 

Apparently  not  satisfied  with  our  replies,  the 
drunken  fellow  staggered  out  toward  our  team, 
remarking  to  his  more  sober  companion: 

"Joe,  let's  take  a  look  at  their  outfit." 

We  paid  little  apparent  attention  to  them  but 
quietly  watched  every  movement  they  made,  for 
we  began  to  suspect  that  these  were  some  of  the 
robbers  we  had  heard  of. 

Each  of  the  men  carried  a  pair  of  revolvers  hung 
42 


WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS 

to  his  belt.  The  most  drunken  one  was  a  large, 
swearing,  swaggering  ruffian  who  was  addressed 
by  the  other  as  "Cap."  The  one  named  "Joe" 
was  smaller  and  apparently  more  sober  and  wore 
an  old  cavalry  jacket. 

As  they  walked  around  the  team  we  heard  an 
ominous  growl  from  our  dog,  Found.  The  big 
fellow  stepped  back  and  laid  a  hand  on  the  butt 
of  one  of  his  pistols,  and  Jack  quickly  grasped  the 
handle  of  his  own  weapon  and  took  a  step  or 
two  in  the  direction  of  the  drunken  ruffian,  keeping 
his  eyes  on  the  fellow's  pistol  hand.  "Cap"  saw 
the  movement  and  turned  toward  Jack,  still  with 
his  hand  on  his  pistol,  and  remarked  with  an  oath : 

"Mister,  ef  that  dog  tries  to  bite  me  he  dies." 

"Then  there'll  be  twJ  dogs  die,"  returned  Jack 
quietly,  looking  the  fellow  in  the  eye. 

I  kept  a  close  watch  of  the  motions  of  Joe,  but 
he  made  no  threatening  gestures  and  seemed 
waiting  to  see  what  his  leader  would  do. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  demanded  the 
drunken  blusterer  of  Jack. 

"I  mean,"  replied  the  Irishman  quietly,  "that 
if  you  keep  away  from  that  team  and  attend  to 
your  own  business  the  dog'll  not  hurt  you;  but  you 
draw  a  gun  to  shoot  him,  an' — well,  you  heard  my 
remark." 

Instead  of  resenting  Jack's  ultimatum,  the  big 
fellow  turned  to  his  henchman  and  said: 

"Joe,  these  men  don't  appear  to  have  heard  of 

43 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

me.  Tell  'em  who  I  am,"  and  then  disappeared 
into  the  store. 

Joe  stepped  up  to  Jack  and  said  in  a  confiden- 
tial way: 

"Pardner,  you've  made  a  big  mistake  to  talk 
so  insulting  to  that  man,  an'  I'm  afraid  you'll 
have  trouble  about  it.  That's  Captain  Tucker, 
one  o'  the  worst  men  in  Kansas.  I  reckon  he's 
killed  more  men  than  I've  got  fingers  an'  toes. 
Best  thing  you  can  do  now,  is  to  foller  him  into 
the  store  an'  call  for  the  drinks,  apologize,  like  a 
man,  an'  make  it  all  up  with  him,  fur  he's  tumble 
when  he's  riled,  specially  when  he's  drinkin'." 

"Is  that  so?"  exclaimed  Jack.  "Why,  he's  a 
bad  one,  ain't  he?  I'm  right  glad  to  know  him." 

"More'n  that,"  added  Joe,  "he's  captain  of  our 
company,  an'  we're  the  toughest  lot  that  ever 
struck  this  country." 

"Where's  your  company,  and  how  many  of 
you  is  they?"  asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  they's  a  whole  lot  of  us,  an'  we're  camped 
down  on  the  crick  a  couple  o'  miles  from  here," 
was  Joe's  evasive  reply. 

I  began  to  get  uneasy.  What  if  Jack's  rashness 
should  bring  this  gang  of  desperadoes  down  on  us? 
Jack  was  game  and  would  not  back  down  from  the 
stand  he  had  taken.  I  knew  that  Tom — who  was 
still  in  the  store  getting  his  sack  of  grain  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  trouble  we  were  about  to  get  into 
— was  game,  too,  and  would  stand  by  the  Irish- 

44 


WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS 

man;  and  if  it  came  to  a  fight  I  could  at  least 
handle  cartridges  for  them.  But  what  could  three 
of  us  do  against  a  gang  of  unknown  numbers  of 
these  lawless  men? 

"Jack,   haven't  you  been   a  little  too  brash? 
You  may  get  us  into  a  scrape  if  he  brings  up  his 


men/ 


"Ef  there's  none  of  'em  more  dangerous  than 
their  captain  there's  nothin'  to  fear.  I've  studied 
such  fellows  all  my  life,  an'  I  never  made  a  mis- 
take in  one  of  his  sort.  He's  just  such  another 
blowhard  as  that  'bad  man  from  Texas'  that  I 
swatted  in  Leavenworth.  An'  on  the  principle  of 
'like  master,  like  man,'  you'll  be  apt  to  find  that 
this  big  company  of  desperadoes,  if  we  ever  meet 
'em,  will  dwindle  down  to  six  or  eight  windy  ruf- 
fians like  their  captain.  I  believe  the  three  of 
us  could  whip  twenty  of  'em.  Such  fellers  don't 
fight  unless  they  can  get  the  drop,  an'  we'll  see 
that  they  don't  do  that." 

Just  as  we  reached  the  store  door  I  turned  to 
see  what  had  become  of  Joe,  and  noticed  him  still 
standing  where  we  had  left  him — as  near  the  mules 
as  Found  would  let  him  come — intently  engaged 
in  writing  or  drawing  something  with  a  pencil  on 
a  piece  of  paper.  The  paper  he  held  in  his  hand 
looked  like  a  yellow  envelope,  and,  nudging  Jack, 
I  pointed  to  him. 

Joe  seemed  to  be  deeply  interested  in  his  work, 
looking  first  at  the  mules  and  then  at  his  yellow 

45 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

envelope  as  he  marked  on  it,  and  did  not  notice 
us.  I  was  still  wondering  what  he  could  be  doing 
when  the  Irishman's  quick  wit  comprehended  the 
situation,  and  he  whispered : 

"He's  copyin'  the  brands  on  our  mules.  We'll 
hear  more  of  this  by  an'  by." 

"How?"  I  asked. 

"He'll  send  somebody  to  claim  'em,  on  a  lost- 
strayed-or-stolen  plea,  an'  the  claimer  will  prove 
ownership  by  showing  the  exact  brands  marked 
on  paper  before  he  has  been  near  the  mules.  I've 
known  that  trick  played  before." 

As  we  entered  the  store  the  old  storekeeper  and 
Tom  came  out  of  the  grain  room — Tom  with  a 
sack  of  corn  on  his  shoulder,  making  mysterious 
winks  at  us  as  he  moved  toward  the  door,  indi- 
cating that  he  desired  us  to  go  back  to  the  wagon. 

The  store  man  cast  an  inquiring  glance  at  the 
decanter  and  then  at  Captain  Tucker.  The  lat- 
ter nodded  his  head  and  said: 

"Chalk  it  down." 

On  the  way  to  the  wagon  we  met  Joe,  who  had 
probably  completed  draughting  our  mules'  brands 
to  his  satisfaction. 

We  told  Tom  of  all  that  had  occurred,  and  I 
rather  expected  that  he  would  reprimand  Jack  for 
acting  so  rashly,  but  to  my  surprise  he  approved 
of  the  Irishman's  doings. 

"Perfectly  right,  perfectly  right,"  said  Tom. 
"It  won't  do  to  give  back  to  such  fellows  a  par- 

46 


WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS 

tide.  If  we've  got  to  have  a  brush  with  them, 
right  now  an'  here's  as  good  a  time  an*  place  as 
any.  We  must  bluff  'em  off  right  at  the  start 
or  fight.  But  we  mus'n't  forget  the  old  sayin', 
'Never  despise  your  enemy';  he  may  turn  out  a 
better  fighter  than  you  give  him  credit  for  bein'. 
We  must  watch  every  move  they  make  an'  be 
prepared  to  bluff  'em  off  at  every  trick  they  try. 
Jack  was  right  in  suspecting  that  that  fellow  with 
the  cavalry  jacket  was  copying  the  brands  on  our 
mules.  They'll  be  after  trying  to  prove  'em  away 
from  us,  ef  they  can't  bluff  us." 

"Did  you  find  out  anything  about  them  from 
the  storekeeper?"  I  asked  anxiously.  "You  were 
in  that  back  room  so  long  I  thought  you  must  be 
pumping  him." 

"Yes,  I  wasn't  idle,"  replied  Tom,  "an'  I  found 
out  a  whole  lot.  At  first  the  old  man  was  afraid 
to  talk,  for  he's  scared  of  these  fellers,  but  when  I 
promised  him  that  we  would  not  get  him  into 
trouble  he  let  out  an'  told  me  all  he  knows  about 


'em. 


"This  is  the  gang  we  heard  about  at  Burlin- 
game  and  again  at  A-Hundred-an'-Ten-Mile 
Creek,"  continued  Tom.  "They  came  to  this 
neighborhood  about  a  week  ago  an'  have  been 
robbin'  and  plundering  an'  everybody's  afraid  of 
'em.  The  old  storekeeper  says  that  there  are  so 
few  able-bodied  men  left  here — most  all  of 'em  hav- 
ing gone  off  to  the  war — that  the  few  citizens  left 

47 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

can't  well  make  any  organized  opposition  to  'em. 
This  lot  is  an  offshoot  from  Cleveland's  gang  of 
jay  hawkers  that  we  heard  about  at  Leavenworth. 
It  seems,  the  old  fellow  says,  that  this  Captain 
Tucker  was  a  lieutenant  under  Cleveland,  an' 
they  couldn't  agree — each  one  wanted  to  be  boss 
— so  Tucker  with  a  few  followers  split  off  from 
Cleveland  an'  started  a  gang  of  his  own." 

"Well,  but  did  you  find  out  how  many  there 
are  in  this  gang?"  I  asked. 

"Yes.  The  old  man  says  that  they  try  to  make 
people  believe  that  there  is  a  big  company,  but 
from  the  best  information  he  can  get  there  are 
only  seven  or  eight." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Jack  contemptu- 
ously. "Ef  they're  no  better  than  these  two 
we're  good  for  that  many,  easy." 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  "ef  we  don't  let  'em  get  the 
drop  on  us  I  think  we  can  stand  'em  off;  but  we 
may  find  'em  a  tougher  lot  than  we  take  'em  for— 
ef  they  tackle  us  for  a  fight  we've  just  got  to 
clean  'em  out,  it's  a  ground-hog  case.  An'  as  to 
killin'  'em,  I'd  have  no  more  hesitation  about  it 
than  I  would  to  kill  a  hostile  Injun.  Ef  we  have 
to  open  fire  on  'em  I  want  you  men  to  shoot  to 
kill,  an'  I'll  do  the  same.  These  jayhawkers  have 
been  declared  outlaws  by  orders  from  the  com- 
mander of  the  department,  an'  the  troops  are 
turned  loose  to  hunt  'em  down,  kill  'em,  or  break 
up  the  gangs  wherever  they  can  be  found. 

48 


WE  MEET  DOUBTFUL  CHARACTERS 

"The  old  storekeeper  says  they've  just  taken 
possession  of  his  store,"  he  continued,  "helpin' 
themselves  to  his  liquor  or  anything  else  they 
want,  tellin'  him  to  ' chalk  it  down*  an'  by  an*  by 
they'll  settle  with  him. 

"A  boy  from  the  neighborhood  who  had  been 
down  to  their  camp  to  sell  'em  some  butter  told 
the  old  man  that  there  was  only  seven  men  of 
'em  an'  they  had  a  tent  an'  a  two-horse  wagon. 
The  boy  said  they  had  lots  of  good  horses,  an' 
the  old  man  thinks  they  gather  in  all  the  good 
horses  an'  mules  they  can  find  in  the  country  an* 
now  an'  then  send  a  lot  of  'em  in  to  Leavenworth 
an'  sell  'em  to  the  contractors  there  who  are 
buyin'  up  horses  an'  mules  for  the  government. 

"Whatever  happens,"  continued  Tom,  "we 
must  be  careful  not  to  compromise  this  old  store- 
keeper an'  his  family,  for  he's  very  much  afraid 
of  these  jayhawkers  an'  cautioned  me  several 
times  not  to  let  them  get  a  suspicion  that  he  had 
told  us  anything  about  them. 

"I  put  an  idea  in  his  head,  though,  which  may 
be  the  means  of  ridding  this  neighborhood  of  these 
rascals.  I  told  him  to  write  a  letter  to  General 
Hunter,  in  command  of  the  department  at  Fort 
Leavenworth,  tellin'  him  the  situation  out  here, 
an'  to  request  the  general  to  send  out  a  company 
of  cavalry  to  clean  out  this  gang  an'  give  protec- 
tion to  the  farmers  an'  people  travelling  the  road. 

"He  jumped   at  the  idea  an'   said   he  would 

49 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

write  the  letter  right  away  an'  send  it  in  by  the 
mail  which  will  go  past  this  afternoon.  I  think 
the  general  will  send  the  troops  immediately,  for 
he  is  makin'  war  on  these  bushwhackers  wherever 
he  can  hear  of  them.  If  the  scheme  is  carried  out 
right  the  soldiers  will  be  apt  to  kill  or  capture 
this  whole  gang.  I'd  like  to  stay  an'  help  'em  at 
it,  but  it  will  take  four  or  five  days,  at  least, 
before  the  soldiers  can  get  here.  Ef  this  gang 
undertakes  to  make  war  on  us  we  may  have  to 
teach  'em  a  lesson  on  our  own  hook." 

"Well,  Tom,"  I  asked,  "what  are  your  plans 
for  meeting  this  emergency  if  you  think  these  fel- 
lows are  going  to  give  us  trouble?" 

Before  he  could  answer  me  the  two  jayhawk- 
ers  came  out  of  the  store  and,  without  making 
any  hostile  demonstrations,  went  to  their  horses, 
mounted,  and  rode  a  little  way  back  down  the 
road  we  had  come,  and  then,  turning  across  the 
prairie  struck  for  the  timber  farther  down  the 
creek.  They  eyed  us  in  passing  but  said  not  a 
word.  As  they  rode  past  us  we  noticed  that 
both  were  mounted  on  good-looking  animals,  es- 
pecially Tucker,  whose  mount  was  a  splendid, 
large  black  horse  of  fine  proportions  and  good 
movement. 


CHAPTER  VI 
STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

"ITTHILE  Jack  and  I  stowed  away  the  sack  of 
corn  and  waited  for  Tom's  reply  to  my 
question,  he  stood  watching  the  disappearing  rid- 
ers till  an  intervening  rise  of  ground  hid  them 
and  then  began  to  unfold  his  plans. 

"It's  earlier  in  the  day  than  we  generally  camp," 
said  Tom  thoughtfully,  "but  under  the  circum- 
stances we  must  select  a  camp  not  far  from  here 
an'  hang  up  till  we  see  what  they're  going  to  do. 
Ef  we  try  to  go  on  farther  they'll  think  we're 
running  from  'em.  We  must  camp  in  open 
ground  where  they  can't  get  in  shooting  distance 
of  us  without  showing  themselves  in  open  prairie. 

"I  asked  the  storekeeper  about  the  lay  of  the 
land  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek,  an'  he  told 
me  of  a  good  place  to  camp  about  a  half  mile 
beyond  the  ford,  where  there's  an  abandoned 
house  out  in  the  prairie  an'  a  good  well.  The 
family  who  owned  the  place  got  scared  out  and 
moved  into  Topeka  to  stay  till  times  get  better. 
There's  where  we'll  camp;  so  let's  get  there  an' 
get  prepared  for  action  in  case  this  outfit  gives 
us  a  call.  They  won't  let  us  go  by  without  trying 
some  bluff  game  on  us  an'  maybe  a  fight. 

51 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"I  don't  think  there's  any  need  of  it  here," 
added  Tom  as  he  looked  toward  the  timber  at  the 
crossing  of  the  creek  ahead  of  us,  "but,  to  be  on 
the  safe  side,  while  I  drive  the  team,  Jack,  you 
an'  Peck  may  take  your  guns  and  form  a  skirmish 
line  ahead  of  me  as  we  go  through  the  timber." 

We  did  so,  but,  finding  no  sign  of  an  enemy,  as 
we  again  came  out  on  the  prairie  we  joined  the 
wagon  and  rode  up  to  the  abandoned  house  and 
camped  in  a  good,  defensible  position.  There  was 
no  grass  close  to  the  house  whereon  to  picket  our 
team,  but  some  hay  that  had  been  left  in  the 
barn  made  a  good  substitute. 

Finding  the  inside  of  the  house  littered  with 
waste  and  rubbish  left  by  the  recent  occupants, 
we  pitched  our  tent  near  the  wagon,  as  usual, 
camping  by  the  house  merely  to  secure  a  defen- 
sible location  in  open  ground  with  wood  and 
water  convenient. 

We  were  confident  that  we  would  receive  a  call 
from  the  jayhawkers  and  hurried  our  dinner, 
keeping  an  anxious  lookout  back  along  the  road 
toward  the  store,  which  was  now  hidden  from  us 
by  the  timber. 

After  we  had  cleared  away  the  dishes  Tom  or- 
dered : 

"Now,  men,  see  that  everything  is  prepared 
for  action.  See  that  all  arms  are  in  good  work- 
ing order,  an'  have  a  good  supply  of  ca'tridges 
handy." 

52 


STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

Such  orders  were  hardly  necessary,  for  we  made 
it  a  rule  at  all  times  to  keep  our  arms  in  good 
shape  and  cartridges  convenient. 

"Here  they  come!"  exclaimed  Jack  in  great 
glee,  and,  looking  toward  the  store,  we  could  see 
a  party  of  mounted  men  just  coming  out  of  the 
timber  at  the  creek  crossing.  As  soon  as  the  an- 
nouncement was  made  Tom  brought  the  field- 
glass  to  bear  on  them  and  began  counting: 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven — all 
told."  Then  he  added:  "They  would  likely  leave 
only  one  man  back  to  take  care  of  camp;  so  eight 
is  about  the  full  strength  of  the  gang,  just  as  we 
heard." 

Passing  the  glass  to  me,  he  added: 

"As  soon  as  they  get  in  hailing  distance  I'll 
halt  'em,  an'  you  men  will  be  ready  to  enforce  my 
commands.  Ef  they  don't  halt  at  the  first  com- 
mand Til  halt  'em  again,  an'  maybe  the  third 
time,  but  not  more.  An'  when  I  give  the  com- 
mand, 'Fire!'  remember  your  old  training — aim 
about  the  saddles  an'  let  em'  have  it,  an'  don't 
waste  your  ca'tridges.  Let  each  one  of  us  try  to 
see  how  many  saddles  he  can  empty." 

To  me  this  sounded  serious,  but  the  veteran 
was  as  cool  about  it  as  if  giving  instructions  to  a 
squad  of  soldiers  on  skirmish  drill.  Jack  always 
seemed  happy  when  there  was  a  good  prospect  of 
a  fight  before  him.  I  must  admit  that  I  began  to 
feel  a  little  squeamish  as  the  jayhawkers  drew  near 

53 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

us,  but  I  was  somewhat  reassured  by  the  firm  and 
fearless  demeanor  of  my  comrades. 

As  the  jayhawkers  approached  it  was  seen  that 
all  except  the  leader,  "Cap"  Tucker,  carried 
rifles,  carbines,  or  shotguns  in  addition  to  their 
pistols.  All  seemed  to  be  well  mounted,  but 
Tucker  was  particularly  conspicuous  by  his  fine 
black  horse.  They  followed  the  main  road  till 
opposite  the  house  where  we  were  and  then 
turned  and  rode  toward  us  at  a  walk. 

As  soon  as  they  had  approached  within  easy 
hail  Tom  took  a  few  steps  toward  them  and, 
bringing  his  Sharp's  rifle  to  a  ready,  sung  out: 

"Halt!" 

Jack  and  I  moved  up  in  his  rear  and  came  to 
the  same  position. 

The  jayhawkers  did  not  seem  to  be  expecting 
such  a  manoeuvre  on  our  part  and  did  not  promptly 
obey  Tom's  first  command;  but  by  the  time  he 
had  repeated  "Halt!"  in  a  louder  tone  they  took 
the  hint,  and  Tucker  quickly  ordered  his  men  to 
stop.  Turning  to  us,  he  called  out  in  a  tone  of 
indignant  surprise: 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  say,"  replied  Tom.  "Ef  you  men 
have  any  business  with  us,  one  of  you — and  only 
one — can  advance  an'  make  it  known.  The  rest'll 
stand  where  they  are." 

Turning  and  speaking  a  few  words  to  his  men, 
Tucker  then  rode  up  to  us. 

54 


STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

As  the  big  captain  halted  a  few  feet  from  us  he 
demanded  angrily: 

"What  do  you  men  mean  by  drawing  your  guns 
on  us  an'  halting  us  this  way?" 

"In  these  doubtful  times,"  replied  Tom,  "we 
don't  propose  to  allow  a  party  of  armed  men  to 
enter  our  camp  without  first  finding  out  who  they 
are  an*  what's  their  business  with  us.  Will  you 
please  tell  us  what  yours  is?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  returned  the  big  ruffian. 
"We  are  free  rangers  looking  up  stray  an'  stolen 
stock  an'  also  gathering  in  good  hosses  an'  mules 
fer  the  government.  Have  you  any  objections  to 
that?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Tom,  "but  we  have  no 
stray  or  stolen  stock  an'  no  horses  or  mules  for 
sale,  an'  I  don't  see  as  you  have  any  further  busi- 
ness with  this  outfit." 

"The  reason  why  we've  made  this  call  on  you 
is  this,"  answered  Tucker.  "A  short  time  ago  one 
of  my  men  had  a  fine  pair  of  mules  stole  from  him 
an'  trailed  'em  down  nigh  to  Leavenworth  where 
he  lost  track  of  'em.  I  learned  from  the  old  store- 
keeper over  the  crick  yonder  that  you  men  had 
lately  bought  your  mules  in  Leavenworth,  an' 
when  I  went  back  to  camp  an'  mentioned  this 
matter  to  Bill  Sawyer  he  got  to  thinkin'  about 
it,  an'  he  thought  that  possibly  you  might  of 
bought  his  mules  without  knowin'  they  was  stole; 
an'  so  I  jes'  brung  him  an'  a  few  more  of  the  boys 
over  to  look  at  your  mules." 

55 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

While  the  captain  was  making  his  little  speech 
Jack  gave  me  an  occasional  wink,  which  seemed  to 
say:  "Listen  to  what's  comin'." 

"Now,  pardner,"  continued  the  jayhawker,  "we 
ain't  in  the  habit  of  spending  much  time  arguing 
about  a  matter  of  this  kind,  an',  as  I  tol'  you  be- 
fore, we're  a-gatherin'  up  mules  an'  hosses  fer  the 
government,  an'  whenever  we  find  any  that  suits 
we  just  take  'em,  givin'  an  order  on  Uncle  Sam, 
an'  he  foots  the  bill.  But  to  show  you  that  we're 
dealing  on  the  square  with  you  men  about  these 
mules,  ef  they  ain't  ours  we  don't  want  'em.  Now, 
I'll  make  you  a  fair  proposition.  The  man  that 
lost  the  mules  I'm  talking  about  is  out  yonder,  an' 
he's  never  seen  your  mules  yet.  He's  got  the 
brands  marked  down  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Now, 
ef  you're  honorable  men  an'  willing  to  do  what's 
right  I  don't  see  how  you  can  help  accepting  my 
proposition,  which  is  this:  I'll  call  Bill  Sawyer 
up  here  an'  let  him  show  his  brands  as  they're 
marked  down  on  that  paper  afore  he's  ever  had  a 
chance  to  see  the  brands  on  your  mules,  an'  ef  the 
brands  he's  got  marked  down  is  the  same  as  wh  it's 
on  them  mules,  why,  it's  a  plain  case  that  they 
must  be  his  mules.  Now,  what  do  you  say  to 
that?" 

Tom  gave  no  sign  that  he  was  "onto  their 
game,"  but  merely  said: 

"Call  your  man  up,  but  only  him — no  more." 

Tucker  rode  out  a  few  steps  toward  his  gang 
and  called: 

56 


STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

"Bill  Sawyer,  come  here!"  and  then  returned  to 
us,  while  William  Sawyer,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  rehearsed  in  his  part,  came  trotting  up  with 
alacrity,  feeling  in  his  inside  pocket  for  the  paper 
that  he  seemed  to  know — although  he  had  been 
out  of  hearing  distance  of  us — was  to  be  called 
for  at  this  stage  of  the  game.  As  Sawyer  left 
his  chums  they  all  gathered  about  Joe — he  of  the 
old  cavalry  jacket — and  seemed  to  be  holding 
an  earnest  consultation. 

As  Sawyer  reached  us  I  had  time  to  notice  that 
he  wore  a  green  patch  over  his  left  eye — or  the 
place  where  the  eye  had  been;  a  villainous  grin 
added  devilishness  to  his  sinister  countenance. 
In  his  hand  he  held  the  same  old  yellow  envelope 
that  Jack  and  I  had  seen  Joe  using  to  copy  the 
mules'  brands  on. 

Taking  the  old  envelope  triumphantly  from  his 
man,  Tucker  passed  it  to  Tom  with  a  confident 
air  as  he  demanded. 

"Now,  let's  compare  the  brands  marked  on  that 
paper  with  the  brands  on  them  mules."  And 
he  turned  his  horse  as  if  to  ride  around  on  the 
other  side  of  our  wagon,  where  the  mules  were 
tied. 

ft  )r~r\  •  <  •  •  •  • 

Iwont  be  necessary — wait  a  minute,  re- 
turned Tom  as  he  passed  the  old  envelope  to  Jack 
and  me  with  the  query:  "Do  you  men  recognize 
that  paper?" 

"Yes,  we've  seen  it  before,"  we  both  answered. 

57 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Tucker  in  as- 
sumed astonishment. 

"Just  this,"  replied  Tom,  looking  sternly  at  the 
jay  hawkers'  captain.  "This  little  joke  of  your'n 
has  gone  about  far  enough.  These  two  men," 
pointing  to  Jack  and  me,  "stood  an'  watched  that 
feller  you  call  Joe — that  sneaking  coyote  out 
yonder  who  wears  the  old  cavalry  jacket — take 
this  ol'  yellow  envelope  out  of  his  pocket  an'  copy 
on  it  the  brands  of  our  mules  while  the  team  was 
standin'  in  front  of  the  store,  when  Joe  had  no 
idea  he  was  bein'  watched.  Now,  I  don't  want 
to  hear  any  more  of  this  foolishness.  Mr.  Jay- 
hawker,  ef  you've  any  other  business  with  us 
please  state  it.  Ef  not  this  meeting  stands  ad- 
journed." 

Seeing  that  his  deception  was  detected  and  that 
the  scheme  failed,  Tucker  apparently  concluded 
to  try  a  bluff  on  us. 

"If  you  won't  listen  to  reason,"  said  he,  "we'll 
show  you  what  we  can  do  in  another  line.  I'm 
satisfied  that  them's  Sawyer's  mules  an'  we're 
going  to  have  'em.  It'll  leave  you  fellows  in  a 
bad  fix  to  break  up  your  team  by  taking  the  mules, 
but  I'm  willin'  to  do  what's  right.  You  give  the 
mules  up  peaceably  and  I've  got  a  pair  of  good, 
old  chunky  ponies  down  to  camp  that  I'll  sell  you 
cheap.  You  may  have  'em  fer  a  hundred  dollars. 
I'll  just  call  the  boys  up  an'  we'll  take  the  mules 
along  with  us  now,  an'- 

58 


STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

"Oh,  no  you  won't,"  interrupted  Tom  in  a 
quiet  but  firm  tone  as  he  began  fingering  the  lock 
of  his  rifle. 

"Why,  pardner,"  exclaimed  Tucker  in  appar- 
ent astonishment,  "you  don't  mean  to  say  you'd 
be  so  foolish  as  to  compel  us  to  use  force?  I've 
got  some  forty  odd  men  over  to  camp.  Ef  you 
don't  give  up  them  mules  peaceably  I'll  go  an* 
bring  the  whole  company,  an'  then — well,  you'll 
have  to  pay  fer  the  trouble  you've  put  us  to,  in 


course." 


A  smile  of  contempt  spread  over  Tom's  visage 
as  he  replied: 

"Trot  out  your  company  an'  try  to  take  them 
mules  an'  we'll  show  you  what  we'll  do  for  you." 

Jack  and  I  were  keenly  alive  to  all  that  was 
going  on  and,  while  watching  the  five  ruffians  out 
on  the  prairie,  were  prepared  to  meet  any  threat- 
ening move  any  of  them  might  make. 

Being  out  of  hearing  of  the  argument,  the  squad 
on  the  prairie  seemed  to  be  growing  restless. 
One  of  them  called  out  to  Tucker  as  though  solicit- 
ing an  order  to  charge  on  us: 

"Cap,  don't  you  want  us  up  there  to  settle  that 
matter  ?  Ef  you  do,  jes9  say  the  word!" 

Tucker  hesitated  before  answering  and  looked 
about  our  camp  as  though  calculating  the  chances. 
The  notion — if  he  entertained  it — was  quickly  dis- 
pelled by  Tom,  who  growled  out : 

"You  give  'em  the  order  to  advance  an'  it'll  be 

59 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  last  one  you'll  ever  give.  We've  got  the  dead- 
wood  on  you  two  fellers  an'  we'll  give  a  good  ac- 
count of  them  others,  too,  ef  they  attempt  to  come 


on." 


Tucker  acknowledged  the  situation  by  shout- 
ing to  his  men  in  the  offing: 

"No!  No!  Stay  where  you  are!"  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Tom,  he  continued:  "Now,  pardner,  I've 
got  one  more  last  proposition  to  make  you,  to 
save  you  trouble,  an'  that  is  this:  We'll  take  them 
mules  over  to  our  camp  an'- 

"That'll  do,"  interrupted  Tom.  "I've  heard 
enough  of  that.  You'll  never  take  them  mules  to 
your  camp,  or  anywhere  else,  while  I'm  alive. 
You  know  that  neither  you  nor  this  other  feller 
has  any  more  right  to  them  mules  than  I  have  to 
the  horses  you're  ridin'.  I  don't  want  to  hear  any 
more  of  your  nonsense.  The  best  thing  you  two 
can  do  is  to  git  away  from  here.  If  I  see  one  of 
you  in  range  of  our  rifles  again  he's  liable  to  git  a 
hole  in  his  hide.  Five  minutes  to  get  out  of 
range!  Now,  git!" 

Tucker  turned  his  horse  and,  calling,  "Come  on, 
Bill,"  they  started  to  join  their  waiting  comrades. 
After  a  few  steps  the  captain  turned  in  his  saddle 
and,  with  a  threatening  nod  to  Tom,  said:  "I'll  see 
you  later." 

"Ef  you  do  it  won't  be  good  for  you,"  retorted 
Tom. 

Tucker  and  Sawyer  joined  the  others,  and  with- 
60 


Five  minutes  to  get  out  of  range!     Now,  git! '' 


STANDING  OFF  THE  JAYHAWKERS 

out  further  demonstration  they  moved  off  sul- 
lenly back  along  the  road  toward  the  store  and 
soon  disappeared  in  the  timber. 

"They  ain't  done  with  us  yet,"  said  Tom  mus- 
ingly. "Tain't  likely  that  they'll  make  an  open 
attack  on  us  while  we're  in  this  camp  because 
they  can't  well  get  the  drop  on  us  here.  The 
most  natural  thing  would  be  fer  'em  to  slip  past 
us  to-night,  or  go  'round  an'  get  ahead  of  us,  an* 
lay  for  us  in  the  timber  at  the  crossing  of  some 
creek  on  the  road  ahead.  I  think  that  one  of 
you  men  might  as  well  slip  over  into  the  timber 
yonder,  near  the  store,  an'  by  keeping  out  of  sight 
an'  watchin'  them  you  may  be  able  to  guess  what 
they're  going  to  do.  They'll  be  certain  to  stop 
awhile  at  the  store  an'  fire  up  on  the  ol'  man's 
whiskey,  an'  then's  the  time  they'll  be  apt  to  be 
careless  about  talking  their  plans  over,  an'  after 
they've  settled  on  what  they  intend  to  do  they'll 
go  on  to  camp  to  get  their  suppers.  After  they 
go  on  to  camp,  ef  you'd  slip  into  the  store  an* 
have  a  talk  with  the  old  man  maybe  he  could  tell 
you  what  they're  up  to." 

"That's  just  to  my  notion,  Tom,"  said  Jack. 
"I  was  just  a-thinkin'  of  goin'  on  a  little  spying 
expedition  after  them  fellers.  I  think  I  can  find 
out  what  their  game  is,  an'  by  all  that's  good  an' 
bad,  I'll  not  come  back  till  I  do." 

So  saying,  taking  his  revolvers  and  shotgun, 
Jack  struck  out  down  a  ravine  that  led  to  the 

61 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

creek  and  was  soon  out  of  sight,  while  Tom  and  I 
busied  ourselves  attending  to  the  stock  and  other 
camp  duties. 


CHAPTER  VII 
JACK  TAKES  A  PRISONER 

TACK  had  been  gone  a  couple  of  hours  and  it 
•*  had  become  quite  dark,  when  our  dog  Found, 
by  growling,  pricking  up  his  ears,  and  looking  to- 
ward the  road,  gave  notice  that  some  one  was  ap- 
proaching. 

On  listening  closely  we  could  hear  some  one 
coming,  but  the  tramping  sounded  like  that  of  a 
horse.  We  had  made  no  light  after  dark,  for  we 
did  not  intend  to  cook  any  supper  and  our  experi- 
ence in  the  Indian  country  had  taught  us  to  dis- 
pense with  lights  when  in  the  vicinity  of  an  enemy. 

As  soon  as  we  were  assured  that  the  coming  par- 
ty, whoever  they  were,  were  making  for  our  camp, 
Tom  whispered:  "Get  your  gun  an'  follow  me." 
With  that  he  took  his  rifle  and,  advancing  stealthily 
for  several  paces  toward  the  approaching  persons— 
whose  voices  we  could  hear — he  squatted  down  in 
a  patch  of  weeds  on  the  path  leading  to  the  road 
while  I  followed  and  did  the  same.  We  had 
chained  the  dog  to  a  wheel  of  the  wagon  lest  he 
should  rush  on  the  newcomers  before  we  could 
find  out  who  they  were. 

We  had  scarcely  got  settled  in  the  position  we 

63 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

had  taken  when  we  discerned  two  dark  bodies 
nearing  us  that  seemed  to  be  a  man  on  foot  and, 
just  behind  him,  a  mounted  man. 

Letting  them  come  on  till  they  were  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  muzzles  of  our  rifles,  Tom's  voice 
suddenly  rang  out: 

"Halt!     Who  comes  there?'9 

We  could  now  see  plainly  that  there  were  but 
two  persons,  a  footman  and  a  mounted  man,  and 
heard  a  prompt  response  from  the  horseman,  in 
the  unmistakable  voice  of  our  Irishman,  as  they 
both  suddenly  stopped. 

"Jack,  with  a  prisoner!"  This  sounded  agree- 
able but  mystifying,  but  the  speaker  enlightened 
us  by  adding:  "I've  captured  Tucker,  the  jay- 
hawker,  and  his  horse." 

We  all  moved  back  to  our  tent  and  struck  a 
light  to  take  a  look  at  Jack's  captures  and  hear 
his  explanation.  But  the  Irishman  declined  to 
talk  in  the  presence  of  his  prisoner  more  than  to 
answer  a  few  commonplace  questions. 

By  the  light  of  the  candle  we  saw  Jack  had  tied 
the  prisoner's  arms  together  at  the  elbows,  behind 
his  back,  with  the  end  of  the  jayhawker's  lariat, 
while  with  the  other  end  securely  fastened  to  the 
horn  of  his  saddle  he  had  been  driving  the  fellow 
before  him. 

The  desperado  seemed  now  very  crestfallen 
and  by  no  means  pugnacious  and  had  nothing  to 
say. 

64 


JACK  TAKES  A  PRISONER 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him,  Jack?"  I 
asked  in  hearing  of  the  captive. 

"Oh,  make  a  ' spread  eagle'  of  him  on  a  hind 
wheel  of  the  wagon  till  mornin',  I  suppose,  an' 
then  take  him  down  to  the  timber  an'  hang  him 
an'  be  done  with  him,"  he  replied  as  he  began  to 
put  the  first  part  of  this  programme  into  execu- 
tion. 

The  "spread  eagle"  is  made  by  requiring  the 
prisoner  to  stand  with  his  back  against  a  hind 
wheel  of  a  wagon;  his  arms  are  then  stretched  out 
on  each  side  and  tied  by  the  wrists  to  the  upper 
rim  of  the  wheel,  while  his  ankles,  with  feet  spread 
apart,  are  tied  in  like  manner  to  the  bottom  of  the 
wheel.  The  prisoner  can  ease  himself  a  little  by 
sitting  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel,  but  this  affords 
an  insecure  and  uncomfortable  seat. 

As  soon  as  we  had  securely  spread  the  big 
jayhawker  on  the  wheel,  Jack  left  me  to  watch 
him,  with  a  caution  to  see  that  he  did  not  work 
himself  loose,  while  he  unsaddled  and  picketed 
out  the  fine  black  horse  he  had  captured.  When 
this  was  accomplished  he  called  Tom  and  me  off  to 
one  side,  far  enough  to  be  out  of  hearing  of  the 
prisoner,  taking  the  precaution  to  place  the  light 
near  the  open  tent  door  where  it  would  shine  on 
our  "spread  eagle,"  so  that  we  could  see  if  he 
made  any  effort  to  free  himself,  and  then  Jack 
gave  us  a  detailed  account  of  his  trip. 

"When  I  got  to  a  place  in  the  timber  where  I 

65 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

could  see  the  store,  I  saw  that  the  jayhawkers' 
horses  was  all  hitched  to  the  fence  an'  I  knew  they 
was  inside.  Pretty  soon  they  all  comes  out  an' 
mounts,  an'  all  except  this  man  Tucker  struck  out 
toward  their  camp.  After  seein'  them  off,  Tucker 
mounted  an'  struck  off  in  a  different  direction,  up 
the  creek  like.  I  couldn't  make  out  what  he  was 
up  to,  but  I  thought  I  would  go  in  an'  have  a  chat 
with  the  storekeeper  as  soon  as  the  coast  was 
clear.  I  went  in  an'  had  quite  a  talk  with  the  ol' 
man,  an',  sure  enough,  he  had  heard  enough  of 
their  talk  to  make  sure  that  their  plan  was  about 
what  Tom  had  guessed  it  would  be.  They  would 
go  back  to  their  camp  an'  wait  till  after  midnight, 
an'  then  mount  an'  take  a  circuit  'round  our 
camp,  pass,  an'  git  ahead  of  us,  an'  lay  for  us  in 
the  timber  at  the  crossing  of  the  next  creek,  which 
the  old  man  says  is  only  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
here.  Tucker  had  concluded  that  while  he  sent 
his  men  back  to  camp  he  would  ride  over  the 
route  they  intended  to  take  an'  look  at  the  lay 
of  the  land  so  as  to  be  able  to  place  his  men  to 
the  best  advantage  to  get  the  drop  on  us. 

"In  going  to  the  place  he  had  kept  up  the  creek 
for  a  piece  an'  then  circled  'round  across  the 
prairie  to  the  little  creek  so's  not  to  be  seen  or 
heard  by  any  of  us  here;  but  in  comin'  back  he 
had  followed  the  main  road,  'cause  he  knew  it 
was  too  dark  by  that  time  for  any  of  us  to  tell 
who  he  was  as  he  passed  along  the  road. 

66 


JACK  TAKES  A  PRISONER 

"I  was  just  comin'  out  of  the  timber,  after 
crossin'  the  creek  this  side  of  the  store,  on  my  way 
back  to  camp,  when  I  spied  him  a-comin'  down 
the  hill  toward  me  at  a  walk,  an'  I  squatted  down 
so's  to  get  him  'tween  me  an'  the  sky,  to  get  a 
better  view  of  him,  to  make  sure  it  was  him;  an' 
then  I  made  up  my  mind  to  take  him  in  right 
there. 

"So  I  got  back  behind  a  tree  right  beside  the 
road,  an'  when  he  got  nearly  to  me  I  stepped  out 
with  both  barrels  cocked  an'  called  out  to  him  to 
halt.  He  pulled  up,  sudden  like,  with  a  jerk,  an* 
asked :  '  What's  up  ?  What's  up  ? ' 

"  Don't  you  make  a  motion  toward  your  pis- 
tols/ says  I,  'or  I'll  put  two  big  loads  of  buckshot 
into  you.'  I  wasn't  more'n  six  feet  from  him,  an' 
he  must  have  seen  that  he  had  no  show  to  get 
away  or  draw  a  gun.  'Now,'  says  I,  'do  just  as  I 
order  you,  an'  don't  you  try  any  foolishness,  or 
I'll  fill  you  full  of  lead.  First  thing,'  says  I,  'un- 
buckle that  belt  an'  drop  belt  an'  pistols  in  the 
road.'  He  did  so,  at  the  same  time  saying: 
'Pardner,  I  reckon  you've  mistook  me  for  some- 
body else.  Who  do  you  take  me  fur  and  who 
are  you,  anyway?' 

"I've  made  no  mistake,'  I  answered.  'You're 
Tucker,  the  jayhawker,  an'  I'm  Jack,  the  giant- 
killer' — an'  wasn't  that  a  big  bluff?  'Now,'  says  I, 
'back  out  a  step  till  I  pick  up  your  guns.' 

"He  did  so,  an'  I  kept  a  close  watch  of  him 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

while  I  gathered  in  his  battery  an'  buckled  the 
belt  around  me  over  my  own. 

"Then  I  commanded,  *  Dismount!'  which  he  did 
like  a  little  man,  an'  I  made  him  tie  his  horse  to  a 
tree;  an'  then  I  undone  his  lariat  from  his  saddle 
an'  made  him  turn  his  back  to  me  while  I  tied  his 
elbows  together  behind  his  back  with  one  end  of 
the  lariat;  an'  with  the  other  end  made  fast  to  the 
horn  of  the  saddle,  with  a  good  holt  of  it  in  me 
fist,  I  mounted  his  fine  horse  an'  druv  him  before 
me,  as  you  saw. 

"An*  now  what  are  we  to  do  with  him?  No 
doubt  he  deserves  hanging,  as  they  all  do,  but  it 
ain't  my  style  to  kill  a  helpless  prisoner  an'  I  know 
you  nor  Tom  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing,  though 
I  told  Tucker,  comin*  along — just  to  keep  him 
well  scared  up  that  we  would  hang  him  in  the 
mornin',  sure  as  fate,  as  soon  as  it  was  light  enough 
to  see  how  to  do  a  good  job  of  it;  an'  I  b'lieve  he's 
afeard  we're  going  to  do  it,  for  he's  been  mighty 
serious  ever  since.  Ef  we  was  nigh  to  any  of 
Uncle  Sam's  sogers  we  could  just  turn  him  over 
to  them,  an'  they'd  fix  him,  sure,  for  the  order  is 
out  fer  these  jayhawkers  to  be  exterminated  to 
death  or  druv  out  of  Kansas,  an*  the  sogers  is 
huntin'  'em  down  wherever  they  can  hear  of  'em. 
By  the  way,  the  ol'  storekeeper  told  me  that  he 
had  sent  off*  that  letter,  by  the  mail  that  went  past 
this  evenin',  to  General  Hunter,  at  Leavenworth, 
askin'  him  to  send  a  few  sogers  out  along  the  Santa 
Fe  road  to  look  after  these  fellers." 

68 


JACK  TAKES  A  PRISONER 

While  Jack  had  been  telling  us  all  this  we  had 
been  standing  far  enough  away  from  the  prisoner 
so  that  we  were  sure  he  could  not  hear  what  was 
said. 

Tom,  while  apparently  listening  to  Jack,  asked 
no  questions  and  offered  no  suggestions  but 
seemed  wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  I  knew, 
from  often  having  seen  him  in  a  similar  revery, 
that  he  was  studying  out  some  "strategy,"  as  he 
would  call  it,  to  spring  on  our  enemies,  the  jay- 
hawkers. 

When  Jack  came  to  a  pause  Tom  began: 

"Men,  we  can't  afford  to  fool  away  much  more 
time  with  these  robbers.  An  idea  struck  me  when 
I  saw  that  big  fellow  tied  to  the  wagon  wheel,  an* 
I've  been  ponderin'  on  it  ever  since,  an'  if  we  can 
carry  out  the  scheme  I  think  I  see  a  way  of  run- 
ning a  bluff  on  him  an'  his  gang  that  will  scare 
'em  out  of  this  neighborhood,  an'  that  will  be  the 
next  best  thing  to  killing  'em  an'  we  won't  have 
to  stay  here.  Now,  listen  an'  I'll  give  you  a  hint 
of  my  plan.  We'll  go  into  the  tent,  where  we'll  be 
close  enough  to  him  for  Tucker  to  hear  what  we're 
saying  ef  he  listens  right  sharp,  an'  I  know  he'll 
do  that.  I'll  give  you  two  men  a  little  talk  that'll 
go  to  show  that  instead  of  our  being  what  we've 
represented  ourselves  to  be — that  is,  three  wolf 
hunters  goin'  out  to  the  buffalo  range — we  are 
really  three  soldiers  disguised  this  way  an'  sent  out 
here  to  do  a  little  detective  service  on  purpose  to 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

locate  this  gang  of  jayhawkers,  an'  that  the  com- 
pany of  cavalry  to  which  we  belong  is  coming  on 
close  behind  us,  ready  to  swoop  down  an'  gobble 
up  the  gang  as  soon  as  I  give  'em  the  word.  An' 
then,  when  we  git  Tucker  to  take  this  all  in  we'll 
manage  to  let  him  escape  an'  carry  this  news  to 
his  gang;  an'  ef  I  ain't  badly  mistaken  they'll 
pack  up  an'  pull  out  from  here  as  quick  as  they 
can  get  away.  Now,  mind  you,  I'm  sergeant  in 
charge." 

"Be  the  powers  o'  mud,"  exclaimed  Jack. 
"That's  a  fine  scheme  if  we  can  only  make  it 
work,  ef  it  pans  out  the  way  you've  planned  it. 
Tom — or  sergeant,  I  should  have  said — I'll  always 
think  that  a  great  general  was  sp'ilt  when  they 
made  only  a  private  of  you.  Now  go  ahead  with 
your  rat  killin'  an'  let's  be  tryin'  it  on." 

As  our  conference  ended  we  strolled  back  to  the 
tent  and  Tom  began  giving  orders  for  guarding 
our  prisoner  through  the  night. 

"Now,  men,  we'll  divide  the  night  into  three 
parts,  like  a  'running  guard,'  an'  each  one  of  us'll 
take  a  third  of  the  night  to  stand  post.  An',  mind 
you,  don't  go  to  sleep  on  post  or  the  prisoner 
might  git  away.  I  guess  we'll  let  Jack  take  the 
first  watch,  an'  you,  Peck,  can  come  on  for  the 
middle  tour,  an'  you  may  call  me  up  for  the  last 
turn.  Ef  you  think  you  won't  git  sleepy  you 
might  bring  out  one  of  the  camp-chairs  an'  take  a 
seat  where  you  can  keep  a  close  watch  of  the  pris- 

70 


JACK  TAKES   A  PRISONER 

oner;  but  ef  you  find  yourself  gittin'  the  least  bit 
drowsy  you  must  get  up  an'  walk  about,  for  it 
won't  do  for  the  sentry  to  go  to  sleep  to-night." 

"Why,  fellows,"  whined  the  big  jayhawker, 
"you  shorely  don't  mean  to  leave  me  in  this  fix 
all  night,  do  you?  I  don't  see  how  I  can  stan'  it 
so  long." 

"Well,  as  to  that,"  said  Jack  with  a  fierce  look 
of  assumed  heartlessness,  "ef  it'd  be  any  accom- 
modation to  you  we  might  be  able  to  rig  up  some 
sort  of  a  gallows  out  about  the  barn  an'  swing  you 
off  to-night  so's  you  wouldn't  have  to  stan'  there 
all  night.  Come  to  think  of  it,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  Tom  and  me,  "that  would  be  a  good 
scheme  for  us  as  well  as  to  put  the  prisoner  out  of 
his  misery,  fer  ef  we  hang  him  to-night  instead  of 
waitin'  till  mornin'  we'll  save  ourselves  the  trouble 
of  standing  guard  over  him,  an'  that's  quite  an 
item.  What  do  you  say  to  it?" 

But  Tom  and  I  decided  that  with  no  better 
light  than  a  candle,  which  the  wind  might  blow 
out,  the  jayhawker  might  escape,  and  if  he  didn't 
we  would  not  be  able  to  do  a  good  job  of  hanging 
with  so  poor  a  light.  And  the  prisoner  concluded 
that  he  would  try  and  worry  through  the  night  on 
the  wagon  wheel  rather  than  put  us  to  so  much 
inconvenience. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
TOM'S  STRATEGY 

/CALLING  us  inside  the  tent  and  changing 
^^  our  bayonet  candlestick  to  a  position  where 
it  would  be  protected  from  the  wind,  while  the 
light  would  still  shine  on  the  prisoner  through 
the  open  tent  door,  Tom,  in  a  low  voice,  began 
giving  us  the  talk  that  we  intended  Tucker  should 
overhear. 

"Now,  men,"  began  the  old  man,  "the  objects 
of  our  expedition  are  so  nearly  accomplished  that 
I  thought  I'd  better  explain  the  situation  to  you 
more  fully  so  that  you  will  clearly  understand  the 
parts  you  are  to  play  in  our  future  movements. 
Everything  is  working  out,  so  far,  just  as  the  cap- 
tain planned  it.  I  don't  believe  that  anybody 
along  the  road  or  any  of  these  jayhawkers  sus- 
pects us  of  being  soldiers  or  anything  else  but 
jest  what  we've  told  'em,  that  we  are  three  wolf 
hunters  goin'  out  to  the  buffalo  range.  There's 
nothin'  military  about  our  team  an*  camp  outfit 
except  the  Sibley  tent  an'  our  rifles,  an'  lots  of 
citizens  use  them;  an'  laying  aside  our  uniforms 
an'  puttin'  on  these  new  buckskin  togs  makes  us 
look  like  three  tenderfeet  tryin'  to  imitate  fron- 

72 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

tiersmen.  I  must  give  our  captain  credit  for  long- 
headedness,  for  'twas  him  planned  the  whole  ex- 
pedition." 

"An*  I  give  the  captain  credit,"  interrupted 
Jack,  "for  selectin'  a  sergeant,  among  all  the  non- 
coms  of  the  company,  who  could  carry  out  his 
plans  to  the  letter." 

"Thanks,"  returned  Tom  with  a  wink.  "An* 
the  two  privates  that  were  selected  to  go  with  the 
sergeant  shows  that  our  captain  knows  his  men." 

"Now,"  continued  Tom,  "ef  things  turn  out  as 
they  look  now,  I  think  our  trip'll  end  right  here, 
for  we've  got  our  game  purty  nigh  bagged.  The 
captain,  with  the  company,  has  kept  just  far 
enough  behind  us  to  keep  out  of  sight,  an'  to-night 
they're  about  ten  miles  back  on  the  road;  an'  ef 
he  gits  the  message  I  sent  to  him  this  afternoon, 
which  I'm  sure  he  will,  they  ought  to  be  here,  or 
over  about  the  store,  rather — for  there's  where  I 
promised  to  meet  'em — a  little  after  midnight." 

I  ould  see  that  our  prisoner  was  taking  a  keen 
interest  in  Tom's  remarks,  craning  his  neck  for- 
ward and  turning  an  ear  toward  the  tent  door  in 
an  attitude  of  attentive  listening. 

"I  have  arranged  with  the  boy,"  continued  the 
old  veteran,  "who  carried  my  message  back  to  the 
captain,  to  guide  the  company  up  to  the  store  an' 
to  meet  me  there  not  later  than  two  o'clock  to- 
night. An'  this  boy  has  been  down  to  the  jay- 
hawkers'  camp  an'  knows  the  lay  of  the  land  all 

73 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

around  there;  an'  when  I  join  the  captain  an'  com- 
pany the  boy  is  to  guide  us  all  to  the  camp,  or 
nigh  enough  so  that  the  captain  can  string  the 
company  all  around  'em;  an'  as  soon  as  it's  light 
enough  we'll  close  in  on  'em  an'  make  sure  that 
nary  one  gits  away.  From  what  Jack  says,  they 
are  all  pretty  full  of  whiskey  an'  will  be  apt  to 
sleep  sound,  an'  it'll  be  an  easy  matter  to  gobble 
the  whole  caboodle." 

"Sh,  sergeant,"  I  said  in  a  loud  enough  whisper 
for  the  prisoner  to  hear.  "Don't  talk  so  loud — 
the  jayhawker  might  hear  you." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  he  could  hear  what  I  say, 
'way  out  there;  but  it  won't  make  much  differ- 
ence ef  he  does,  fer  he'll  never  live  long  enough  to 
profit  by  what  he  might  hear,  for  he's  pretty  nigh 
as  good  as  a  dead  man  right  now.  His  time's 
short." 

Tucker  had  dropped  his  head  forward — in  our 
direction — as  far  as  he  could  lean,  and  had  closed 
his  eyes  as  if  asleep,  but  was  trying  to  catch  ^very 
word  that  was  said. 

"But,  sergeant,"  I  asked  Tom,  "what  will  the 
captain  do  with  the  jayhawkers  after  he  takes  'em 
in — take  'em  back  to  Leavenworth  as  prisoners?" 

"Not  much,"  replied  the  old  man.  "He  has 
his  orders  from  General  Hunter  to  exterminate 
these  jayhawkers  wherever  he  can  catch  'em — to 
shoot  or  hang  'em;  an'  you  know  our  old  captain 
is  jest  the  man  that'll  take  delight  in  carryin'  them 

74 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

orders  out  to  the  letter.  We've  heard  complaints 
enough  from  people  along  the  road  to  satisfy  the 
captain  that  these  rescals  are  entitled  to  no  mercy, 
an'  you  bet  they'll  get  none  from  him." 

"But,  sergeant,"  inquired  Jack,  "what  will  we 
do  with  this  feller?  Hang  him  in  the  mornin'?" 

"No;  unless  he  should  try  to  get  away,  accord- 
ing to  my  orders,  we'll  have  to  keep  him  till  the 
company  gits  here  an'  then  turn  him  over  to  the 
captain.  It'll  only  delay  his  hanging  a  little  while, 
for  the  captain'll  fix  him  quick  enough.  But  ef 
he  should  accidentally  get  loose  an'  run,  why, 
shoot  him,  of  course." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Jack,  "that  we  can't 
hang  him  ourselves  as  soon  as  daylight  comes,  fer 
I  promised  him  that,  an'  I  always  like  to  make  my 
words  good." 

"Now,"  continued  Tom,  "I  want  you  two  men 
to  keep  a  close  watch  of  him  an'  give  him  no 
chance  to  give  us  the  slip,  for  that'd  spoil  all  our 
plans." 

"We'll  see  that  he  don't  get  away." 

"Well,  as  I've  got  to  meet  the  captain  an'  com- 
pany over  at  the  store  a  little  after  midnight,  I'll 
lie  down  an*  try  to  git  a  little  sleep,  an'  you  an' 
Jack'll  have  to  divide  the  time  between  you, 
guardin'  the  prisoner,  for,  of  course,  I'll  not  be 
able  to  get  back  here  till  some  time  after  daylight, 
an'  when  I  come  it'll  be  with  the  company.  I 
guess,"  added  Tom  after  a  pause,  "I'd  better  ride 

75 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  jayhawkers'  horse  over  to  meet  the  company; 
he'll  make  a  better  mount  for  me  than  one  of  our 
broncos." 

"Yes,  do  so,"  said  Jack;  "he's  a  good  one,  I 
think."  Then  he  added  pleadingly:  "But,  ser- 
geant, is  they  no  way  we  could  fix  it  so  that  me 
an'  Peck  could  go  with  you  on  this  round-up? 
S'pose  we  go  out  to  the  barn  an'  hang  this  feller 
to-night,  or  shoot  him,  an'  say  he  tried  to  run- 
then  we  could  all  go." 

"No,"  replied  Tom  decidedly,  "that  won't  do 
at  all.  Remember  the  old  saying,  'It's  a  good  sol- 
dier that  obeys  orders,'  an'  we've  got  our  orders 
to  hold  any  and  all  prisoners  we  may  chance  to 
take  and  turn  'em  over  to  the  captain.  Much  as 
I'd  like  to  have  both  of  you  along,  you  must  stay 
an'  take  care  of  the  camp  an'  prisoner.  But  I'll 
speak  a  good  word  to  the  captain  fer  you,  an'  I 
think  I  can  safely  promise  that  you'll  both  be 
made  corporals  as  soon  as  there's  vacancies  in  the 
company." 

"Well,"  said  Jack  sorrowfully,  "I  suppose  we'll 
have  to  stan'  it;  but  I  hate  like  blazes  to  break  my 
promise  to  the  jayhawker,  for  I  told  him  he  could 
depend  on  bein'  hung  at  daylight." 

"But,  sergeant,"  I  put  in,  "won't  the  jayhawk- 
ers down  at  their  camp,  waiting  for  their  chief, 
suspect  something  wrong  when  he  don't  show 
up?" 

"No,  it  ain't  likely.  They  were  all  pretty  full 
76 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

on  leaving  the  store,  Jack  says,  an'  they'll  be  apt 
to  go  right  to  sleep  on  gettin'  to  camp  an'  think 
no  more  about  it  till  mornin'.  An'  ef  they  do  hap- 
pen to  miss  him  they'll  think  he  got  too  drunk  to 
git  back  to  camp  an'  so  laid  out  some'ers. 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  Tom  in  concluding  this  con- 
versation, "you  may  as  well  put  that  candle  out 
an'  take  post  outside  where  you  kin  keep  an  eye 
on  the  prisoner.  An',  Peck,  you'll  take  a  turn 
around  camp,  to  see  that  the  animals  are  all  tied 
securely,  an'  then  turn  in,  an'  you  an*  me'll  be 
tryin'  to  get  what  sleep  we  can  afore  it's  time  for 
us  to  go  on." 

As  we  came  out  of  the  tent  the  captive  seemed 
to  be  just  rousing  up  from  a  nap  he  pretended  to 
have  been  taking  and  whined: 

"Men,  would  you  mind  loosenin'  these  strings 
around  my  wrists  and  ankles  a  little  mite? 
They're  cuttin'  into  my  flesh." 

"Well,"  replied  Tom  compassionately,  "we 
don't  want  to  torture  a  man  unnecessarily.  It'll 
be  enough  to  put  him  to  death  properly,  when  the 
time  comes,  without  keepin'  him  a-sufferin'  so 
long.  Loosen  up  them  cords  a  little,  Jack.  There 
won't  be  much  danger  of  his  gettin'  away,  without 
you  should  go  to  sleep,  an'  I  know  you  won't  do 
that." 

Jack  complied  with  Tom's  instructions  with  ap- 
parent reluctance,  grumbling  as  he  did  so.  He 
purposely  slackened  the  cords  on  the  wrists  so 

77 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

much  that  the  man  would  probably  be  able  to 
slip  his  hands  out  of  them,  seeming  to  rely  on  his 
watchfulness  and  shotgun  to  prevent  the  possi- 
bility of  an  escape.  Then  bringing  out  a  camp- 
chair,  the  Irishman  sat  down  with  the  shotgun 
across  his  lap  while  I  made  a  tour  of  the  camp  as 
directed.  Then  joining  Tom  in  the  tent,  I  put  out 
the  light  and  we  pretended  to  turn  in  for  a  sleep. 
In  reality  we  lay  down  near  the  open  tent  door, 
where,  having  the  prisoner  between  us  and  the 
white  wagon  cover,  we  could  see  every  motion  he 
might  make,  for  it  had  been  arranged  that  Jack 
should  apparently  go  to  sleep  in  his  chair  and  let 
the  jayhawker  have  a  chance  to  get  away. 

Jack  had  prudently  taken  his  seat  far  enough 
from  the  prisoner  so  that  the  latter  could  not, 
after  freeing  himself,  spring  upon  him  and  seize 
his  shotgun,  and  Tom  and  I,  in  anticipation  of 
such  an  effort,  lay  down  with  pistols  ready  to 
defeat  the  move  should  it  be  attempted.  We  had 
chained  the  dog  far  enough  away  to  be  out  of 
reach  of  the  jayhawker,  for  fear  that  he  might 
catch  the  fugitive  and  thus  spoil  our  scheme. 

Tucker  remained  in  his  fixed  position  on  the 
wagon  wheel  an  exasperatingly  long  time  before 
he  began  to  make  any  move  toward  freeing  him- 
self, and  he  remained  so  still  that  I  began  to 
think  that  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  spite  of  his  un- 
comfortable position. 

After  manifestly  keeping  awake  for  a  reasonable 

78 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

time  so  as  to  give  his  actions  a  semblance  of  re- 
ality, Jack  began  to  nod  in  his  chair,  and  finally 
let  his  head  drop  against  the  back  of  his  seat,  very 
naturally,  but  in  a  position  that  would  enable 
him,  through  nearly  closed  eyes,  to  watch  every 
move  of  the  prisoner;  and  then  the  Irishman  be- 
gan to  snore.  Tom  and  I  responded  by  doing  our 
share  of  hard  breathing,  and  now  the  captive  be- 
gan to  show  some  signs  of  life. 

In  the  dim  light  I  could  see  him — silhouetted 
against  the  white  wagon  cover — leaning  over  to 
his  left  and  working  his  right  arm  as  if  slipping 
the  hand  out  of  the  loop  that  held  it  to  the  wheel. 
When  that  hand  was  free  he  resumed  his  original 
position,  kept  perfectly  still  for  a  moment,  and, 
when  apparently  assured  that  we  were  all  still 
asleep,  he  dropped  his  free  right  hand  slowly  to 
his  waist  and  carried  the  hand  to  his  mouth,  evi- 
dently having  drawn  his  pocket-knife  and  opened 
a  blade  with  his  teeth.  Instead  of  untying  the 
bonds  on  his  other  hand  and  ankles  he  had  con- 
cluded that  the  quickest  and  quietest  way  was  to 
cut  them. 

After  replacing  his  right  hand  in  its  former  po- 
sition on  the  wheel,  watching  Jack  closely  for  a 
moment,  and  listening  intently  to  our  steady,  hard 
breathing,  he  quietly  reached  over  with  the  knife 
in  his  free  hand  and  cut  the  string  that  held  his  left 
wrist  to  the  wheel;  then  replacing  both  hands  on 
the  wheel  again  for  a  moment  as  if  tied,  he  looked 

79 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

earnestly  at  Jack  and  then  turned  an  ear  toward 
our  tent  door. 

Assured  by  our  snoring  that  we  were  all  asleep, 
he  reached  down  and  cut  the  cords  that  held  his 
ankles,  after  which  he  gave  another  earnest  look 
at  Jack,  took  a  step  out  from  the  wheel,  and  no 
doubt  intended  to  steal  quietly  out  to  his  horse 
and  mount  him;  but  as  soon  as  he  started  from 
the  wagon  the  dog  gave  an  angry  growl  and  sprang 
the  length  of  his  chain  toward  the  escaping  jay- 
hawker. 

Knowing  that  his  flight  would  now  be  discov- 
ered, Tucker  quickly  darted  around  the  wagon, 
to  get  out  of  the  range  of  Jack's  shotgun,  with 
Found  lunging  on  his  chain  and  barking  furiously. 

Jack  sprang  to  his  feet,  calling  to  the  fugitive, 
"Halt!  halt!"  as  he  rushed  around  the  wagon, 
followed  by  Tom  and  me,  only  to  see  the  form  of 
the  jayhawker  disappearing  rapidly  in  the  dark- 
ness. Still  calling  out  "Halt!  halt!"  Jack  let  off 
one  barrel  after  another  of  his  shotgun,  but  high 
over  the  head  of  the  retreating  ruffian,  merely  to 
accelerate  his  speed.  Tucker  made  no  attempt  to 
get  his  horse  and  was  probably  only  too  glad  to 
get  away  with  a  sound  carcass. 

After  chasing  him  out  on  the  prairie  a  little  way, 
calling  excitedly  to  one  another  to  mount  and  fol- 
low the  fugitive  and  try  to  head  him  off  at  some 
point  toward  the  jayhawkers'  camp — all  to  im- 
press Tucker,  in  case  he  heard  us,  of  the  earnest- 

80 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

ness  of  our  pursuit  and  our  anxiety  to  recapture 
him — we  returned  to  our  tent  to  chuckle  over  the 
success  of  Tom's  strategy. 

"Tain't  likely,"  observed  Tom,  "that  he'll  fool 
away  time  hanging  around  here  to  try  to  get  his 
horse.  He's  scared  bad,  for  sure,  an'  no  doubt 
b'lieves  every  word  of  that  yarn  I  got  off  about  the 
company  of  cavalry;  but,  to  be  on  the  safe  side, 
Jack,  you'd  best  bring  the  black  horse  up  here  an' 
tie  him  to  the  wagon  wheel  that  his  former  master 
jest  vacated,  an'  then  turn  Found  loose,  an'  I'll 
guarantee  no  prowler'll  come  nigh  our  camp  with- 
out our  gettin'  due  notice  of  it." 

"Holy  smoke,"  exclaimed  Jack,  still  comment- 
ing on  the  jayhawker's  escape,  "didn't  he  run! 
When  I  run  'round  the  wagon  after  him  I  could 
have  shot  him  easy,  ef  I'd  wanted  to,  fer  he  lost 
so  much  ground  a-zigzaggin'  as  he  run,  to  keep  me 
from  hittin'  him  when  I  shot,  that  he  hadn't  got 
very  far  ahead  of  me.  But  after  I  let  off  both  bar- 
rels of  the  shotgun  he  struck  a  bee-line  fer  the 
timber,  only  hitting  the  ground  in  high  places. 
He'll  lose  no  time  in  getting  back  to  his  camp  an' 
rousing  up  his  men  an'  telling  'em  about  the  com- 
pany of  cavalry  that's  comin'  after  midnight  to  sur- 
round their  camp  an'  hang  or  shoot  every  moth- 
er's son  of  'em.  What  a  time  the  half-drunken 
robbers'll  have  a-saddling  up  in  the  dark  an'  get- 
in'  away  from  there  in  a  hurry.  They'll  put  as 
many  miles  as  they  can  between  them  an'  their  ol' 

81 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 
camp  before  that  company  of  cavalry  surrounds 

After  carrying  out  Tom's  orders  we  all  turned 
in  and  slept  till  daylight,  when  the  veteran's 
usual  morning  call  brought  back  the  recollection 
of  the  recent  exciting  incidents. 

After  breakfast  Tom  rode  over  to  the  store  to 
see  what  he  could  learn  of  the  jayhawkers. 

Before  he  started:  Jack  asked,  "Tom,  what  are 
we  to  do  with  Tucker's  horse?" 

"Why,  Jack,  ef  no  more  rightful  owner  than 
Tucker  turns  up  to  claim  him  the  horse  is  fairly 
yours  by  right  of  capture." 

"I've  been  thinkin'  it  over,"  said  Jack,  "an* 
come  to  this  conclusion:  We  know  that  these  jay- 
hawkers  make  a  business  of  robbing  people,  taking 
all  the  good  horses  an'  mules  they  come  across;  it's 
more'n  likely  that  this  Tucker  has  stole  this  fine 
horse  from  somebody  hereabouts,  an'  I  think  the 
square  thing  to  do  will  be  to  leave  word  with  the 
ol'  storekeeper  that  in  case  any  man  comes  along 
claiming  the  horse,  an'  can  prove  his  property, 
we'll  give  him  up  to  the  rightful  owner.  If  the 
owner  should  show  up  in  a  day  or  two  he  can 
follow  us  up,  prove  ownership,  an'  take  his  horse. 
Ef  he  shouldn't  show  up  until  after  we've  got  out 
to  our  winter's  camp,  or  well  on  the  road  toward 
it,  we'll  leave  word  with  the  storekeeper  to  say 
that  we'll  be  comin'  back  this  way  in  the  spring 
an'  we'll  fix  the  business  up  then." 

82 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

"Good  idea,  Jack,"  said  Tom.  "I  guess  that'll 
be  as  good  a  plan  as  any  to  settle  about  the  own- 
ership of  the  horse,  an'  we'll  leave  it  that  way." 

"As  to  the  horse  being  mine,"  added  Jack,  "in 
case  no  owner  turns  up,  I  don't  look  at  it  that 
way.  This  is  a  partnership  concern,  I  take  it,  an* 
everything  belongs  to  all  hands.  But  that  horse 
is  a  dandy.  I  was  out  brushin'  him  off  a  bit  ago, 
an*  I  haven't  laid  a  currycomb  on  a  finer  animal 
this  long  time.  He's  young — only  six  years  old — 
well  built,  clean-limbed,  got  good  action,  fine  car- 
riage, sound  as  a  dollar,  an'  I'll  warrant  he  can 
run  a  good  lick,  too." 

As  Tom  started  off,  instead  of  following  the  road 
he  took  a  course  across  the  prairie  that  would 
bring  him  to  the  creek  some  distance  from  the 
regular  ford,  thus,  instinctively,  as  it  were,  follow- 
ing out  an  old  frontier  scouting  rule  by  which  we 
were  taught  that  in  travelling  a  probably  danger- 
ous road  one  should  avoid  the  regular  crossing  of 
a  timbered  creek  as  a  precaution  against  being 
ambushed. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  Tom  made 
his  appearance  and  soon  joined  us. 

In  response  to  our  eager  inquiries  for  news  he 
replied : 

"Good  news.  Our  strategy  won  the  game. 
The  whole  gang,  lock,  stock,  an'  barrel,  lit  out 
from  their  ol'  camp  last  night  about  midnight,  an* 
went  in  a  hurry,  too.  Judging  by  the  signs  an* 

83 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

what  a  man  told  us  who  heard  'em  gittin'  away 
across  the  prairie,  they  must  have  been  scared. 
Now,  let's  hitch  up  an'  strike  the  road  again  an' 
try  to  make  up  some  of  the  time  we've  lost  here — 
for  we've  been  knocked  out  of  nearly  a  day's  drive 
by  these  jayhawkers.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it 
as  we  go  along." 

We  soon  had  our  team  strung  out  and  were 
again  rolling  along  the  old  Santa  Fe  road,  Jack 
and  I  on  the  wagon  seat,  with  Tom  riding  the 
black  horse  alongside  and  giving  us  the  particulars 
of  his  visit  to  the  store. 

"When  I  got  to  the  store,"  he  said,  "early  as  it 
was,  I  found  a  farmer  there  who  lives  down  near 
where  the  jayhawkers  have  been  camped  an'  who 
had  come  up  to  report  that  some  time  before 
midnight  he  had  heard  considerable  commotion  in 
their  camp,  an'  shortly  afterward  heard  a  wagon 
an'  some  mounted  men  pass  not  far  from  his 
house,  goin'  southward  across  the  prairie.  He 
supposed  that  the  gang  was  breaking  camp  an' 
moving  away,  but  couldn't  understand  why  they 
should  light  out  so  sudden  an'  at  such  an  hour. 
When  daylight  come  he  visited  the  abandoned 
camp  an'  there  saw  plenty  of  signs  that  they'd 
gone  in  a  hurry.  They  left  clothin',  lariats,  an' 
other  camp  equipage  scattered  about  that  they 
had  failed  to  gather  up  in  the  dark. 

"Well,  when  I  got  to  the  store  the  farmer  an' 
the  storekeeper  was  all  worked  up  an'  tickled  at 


TOM'S  STRATEGY 

the  going  of  their  unwelcome  neighbors;  an'  their 
astonishment  was  greater  still  to  see  me  ridin' 
Tucker's  fine  black  horse  an'  saddle,  which  they 
all  seemed  to  recognize  at  first  sight. 

"To  explain  the  situation  to  'em,  an'  how  I  come 
to  be  ridin'  Tucker's  horse,  I  had  to  tell  'em  all 
about  the  jayhawkers  comin'  to  our  camp  to  try 
to  bluff*  us  out  of  our  mules,  an'  how  we  stood 
'em  off;  an'  about  Jack  capturin'  the  big  duffer; 
an'  how  we  made  a  'spread  eagle'  of  him  an'  give 
him  a  good  scaring  up  with  that  yarn  of  the  com- 
pany of  cavalry  coming;  an'  how  we  give  him  a 
chance  to  get  away;  an'  how  he  got. 

"I  told  the  storekeeper  what  Jack's  plan  was, 
in  case  an  owner  for  the  black  horse  should  turn 
up;  but  he  don't  think  the  horse  b'longs  to  any 
one  in  this  part  of  the  country;  an'  ef  anybody 
comes  'round  inquiring  for  such  a  horse  he's  to 
write  to  me  at  Fort  Larned. 

"The  ol'  feller  was  dreadful  uneasy  for  fear  the 
jayhawkers  would  find  out  that  we'd  gone  on  out 
to  the  plains  an'  that  there  was  really  no  com- 
pany of  cavalry  behind  us  and  then  would  come 
back.  But  I  tol'  him  not  to  worry  about  that, 
for  I  believed  there  would  be  a  company  of  cav- 
alry here  from  Fort  Leavenworth  before  long  in 
answer  to  that  letter  he  had  written  to  General 
Hunter. 

"I  put  another  idea  into  his  head,  tellin'  him 
that  he  could  help  the  soldiers  to  capture  or  break 

8s 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

up  the  gang  by  havin'  a  man  foller  their  trail  an' 
find  out  just  where  they  locate.  He  took  up  with 
the  idea  right  away,  an'  the  farmer  said  he'd  fol- 
ler the  trail.  When  he  gets  'em  located  he's  to 
come  back  an'  guide  the  soldiers  to  the  jay  hawk- 
ers' camp." 

As  we  passed  through  the  strip  of  timber  at  the 
crossing  of  the  little  creek  where  the  jayhawkers 
had  planned  to  get  the  drop  on  us  we  noticed 
that  it  would  have  been  an  admirable  place  for 
such  a  manoeuvre,  and  Jack  and  I  commented  on 
the  possibilities  of  an  encounter  with  the  enemy 
here. 

"You're  wastin'  your  wind,"  interrupted  Tom 
impatiently.  "I  had  it  all  planned  out  to  take  a 
by-road  that  leads  off  from  the  house  where  we 
camped,  which  crosses  the  creek — so  the  store- 
keeper had  told  me — about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
below  this  crossin',  comin'  into  the  main  road 
again  in  the  prairie  beyond.  In  that  way  we'd 
have  left  the  jayhawkers  'holdin'  the  sack,'  like 
the  feller  that  went  a-snipe  huntin'." 


86 


CHAPTER  IX 
BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND 


afternoon  we  reached  Council  Grove,  on 
"*•  the  west  bank  of  Neosho  River.  It  was  then 
a  place  of  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  inhabi- 
tants but  an  important  business  point  —  the  out- 
post of  Kansas  settlements  and  the  last  town,  going 
westward,  until  Denver,  Colorado,  was  reached. 
Travellers  going  to  the  plains  usually  halted  here 
to  lay  in  any  requisites  for  their  trip  that  might 
have  been  overlooked  in  starting  from  the  Mis- 
souri River  and  also  for  last  repairs  on  wagons 
and  for  horseshoeing. 

The  tires  on  our  hind  wheels  had  become  a  little 
loose,  and  we  decided  to  have  them  shrunk  and 
reset,  so  we  camped  by  a  blacksmith  shop  near  the 
centre  of  the  village,  and  soon  had  the  blacksmith 
at  our  work,  which  he  finished  before  dark. 

Making  an  early  start  next  morning,  we  rolled 
out,  nooned  at  Diamond  Springs,  fifteen  miles 
from  the  Grove,  where  there  was  but  one  family, 
and  at  evening  camped  at  Lost  Springs,  thirty 
miles  from  Council  Grove,  where  Jack  Costillo's 
ranch  was  the  only  habitation.  So  long  as  the 
road  and  weather  were  fine  we  wished  to  make  up 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  time  lost  in  being  delayed  by  the  jayhawkers 
and  lengthened  our  drives  accordingly. 

We  were  now  fairly  launched  on  the  plains  and 
would  see  little  more  timber  and  no  habitations 
of  white  men  except  an  occasional  trading  ranch 
at  the  crossing  of  some  creek  along  the  road.  We 
were  nearing  the  eastern  edge  of  the  buffalo  range. 

The  road  from  Fort  Riley,  that  we  had  formerly 
travelled  in  going  out  to  the  Arkansas  River  and 
back,  enters  the  Santa  Fe  road  here  at  Lost 
Springs.  At  this  camp  there  was  no  timber  and 
no  running  water — merely  a  series  of  water-holes 
strung  along  a  prairie  hollow.  This  had  long  been 
a  well-known  camping  ground;  but  where  the 
springs  were  from  which  it  takes  the  name  I 
never  knew,  for  I  never  saw  any. 

We  pitched  our  tent  near  where  the  Fort  Riley 
road  enters  the  Santa  Fe  and  after  supper  at- 
tended to  the  usual  camp  work.  After  we  had 
groomed  and  fed  our  animals  the  Irishman  and  I 
strolled  up  to  the  ranch  to  renew  old  acquain- 
tance with  the  proprietor,  Jack  Costillo,  also  an 
Irishman,  whom  we  had  previously  known  as  a 
soldier  in  the  Mounted  Rifle  Regiment  in  New 
Mexico. 

Costillo  was  delighted  to  meet  us  again  and,  of 
course,  set  out  his  best  for  us.  We  spent  a  couple 
of  hours  very  pleasantly  talking  over  old  times 
with  him  and  then  returned  to  our  camp.  As  we 
walked  along,  thinking  of  the  Italian  name  borne 

88 


BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND 

by  this  man,  who,  as  Jack  said,  "wore  the  map 
of  Ireland  on  his  face,"  I  remarked: 

"When  I  hear  such  names  as  O'Shaughnessy, 
Finnegan,  or  McCarthy  given  for  an  Irishman, 
they  seem  natural  and  Irish  enough,  but  now 
and  then  I  find  an  Irishman  with  what  seems  to 
be  a  very  un-Irish  name,  such  as  Costillo's,  for  in- 
stance. How  do  you  account  for  these  misfit 
names,  Jack?" 

"Oh,  that's  'asy,"  replied  Jack.  "You  see,  ould 
Ireland  is  a  sea-girt  isle  an'  is  visited  by  ships  of 
various  nations,  an'  now  an'  then  some  foreign 
sailor,  in  an  Irish  port,  falls  in  love  with  an  Irish 
girl  an'  marries  her,  an'  the  childther,  of  course, 
will  bear  the  foreigner's  name,  though  they  be  as 
Irish  as  Paddy's  pigs." 

"Well,  that  is  a  reasonable  explanation  of  a 
question  that  has  occasioned  me  a  good  deal  of 
speculation,"  I  answered,  "and,  accepting  your 
solution  of  the  problem,  my  mind  will  be  much 
easier  in  the  future." 

At  these  roadside  ranches,  which  had  sprung 
up  at  every  important  camping  place  along  the 
road  since  the  Pike's  Peak  gold  discovery,  liquor 
was  sold  and  a  small  general  assortment  kept  of 
such  goods  as  were  in  demand  by  travellers. 

No  attempt  was  made  to  cultivate  the  soil  or 
raise  crops;  they  were  there  merely  for  the  trade 
of  the  road  and — at  points  farther  out — for  In- 
dian trade.  They  also  bought  worn-out  stock 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

from  passing  oufits  and,  after  resting  and  re- 
cruiting such  animals,  sold  them  to  other  travel- 
lers needing  fresh  animals. 

The  Santa  Fe  mail  contractors,  Hall  &  Porter,  of 
Independence,  Missouri,  had  established  stations 
at  certain  ranches,  but  beyond  Council  Grove  there 
were,  as  yet,  no  regular  eating  or  lodging  stations 
for  passengers  in  the  mail-coaches.  They  had  to 
carry  their  own  bedding  and  take  camp  fare  with 
the  mail  hands — two  drivers  and  a  conductor  to 
each  coach. 

At  Cottonwood  Creek,  the  next  camp  west  of 
Lost  Springs,  we  began  to  see  buffalo — a  few 
straggling  old  bulls  at  some  distance  from  the 
road — but  as  yet  no  herds.  By  the  time  we  had 
reached  the  Little  Arkansas  small  bands  became 
more  numerous  and  neighborly;  and  from  there  on 
the  herds  grew  larger,  till  by  the  time  we  reached 
the  vicinity  of  Fort  Larned — much  later — dense 
masses  of  them  were  to  be  seen  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

As  far  west  as  Lost  Springs  we  found  multi- 
tudes of  prairie-chickens  along  the  road  and  our 
shotgun  kept  our  mess  supplied  with  fresh  meat. 
From  Lost  Springs  westward  we  saw  no  more 
prairie-chickens,  but  as  we  soon  reached  the 
buffalo  range  we  killed  young  buffalo  or  antelope. 

In  running  buffalo  we  used  the  black  horse, 
Jack's  capture,  and  although  at  first  somewhat 
shy  of  the  brown,  woolly  monsters,  he  soon  got 

90 


BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND 

used  to  them  and  evinced  keen  interest  in  the 
chase. 

In  killing  a  buffalo  for  fresh  meat  we  usually 
selected  a  yearling  or  two-year-old,  to  insure  ten- 
der meat,  and  cut  out  only  a  few  pounds  of  the 
choicest  parts  from  the  carcass,  buffalo  being  so 
plenty  that  we  seldom  thought  of  the  wasteful- 
ness of  this  then  common  practice. 

Antelope,  the  fleetest  and  most  graceful  animal 
on  the  plains,  could  seldom  be  overhauled  by 
a  mounted  man,  but  their  inquisitiveness  was  so 
great  that  they  would  often,  in  herds  of  a  dozen 
or  more,  approach  our  camp  through  curiosity; 
and  if  they  did  not  come  close  enough  to  suit  us, 
by  displaying  a  red  blanket  we  could  lure  them  on, 
almost  close  enough  to  knock  them  over  with  a 
stick.  Their  meat  is  tender  and  well  flavored, 
but  at  certain  seasons  there  is  little  fat  on  it  and 
a  little  bacon  cooked  with  it  improves  it. 

Coming  in  from  grooming  the  black  horse  one 
day,  Jack  declared: 

"The  more  I  handle  that  horse  the  better  I  like 
him.  He's  one  of  the  best  I  ever  rubbed  a  brush 
over.  I've  been  wondering  who  that  jayhawker 
could  have  stole  him  from  an'  dreading  lest  the 
owner  should  follow  us  up  an'  claim  his  property, 
in  which  case,  of  course,  we'd  have  to  give  him 
up." 

"Well,  Jack,"  I  replied,  "it  ain't  likely  that  the 
owner  of  the  horse,  whoever  he  may  be,  will  ever 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

bother  us;  and  when  we  hear  from  the  old  store- 
keeper, back  where  you  got  him,  if  no  owner  has 
shown  up  there  to  inquire  about  him,  then  your 
claim  is  the  next  best  and  he'll  be  your  horse." 

"No,"  said  the  impulsive  Irishman,  "ef  we're 
to  git  to  kape  him  he's  to  be  company  property 
— he'll  belong  to  all  of  us." 

"Well,"  put  in  Tom,  "I've  been  thinkin'  that 
the  black  horse  is  entitled  to  a  name,  anyhow. 
We've  named  the  mules— or  Wild  Bill  did— ' Dink' 
an'  'Judy'  an'  the  broncos  'Polly'  an'  *  Vinegar'; 
now,  what'll  we  call  the  horse?" 

"Why  not  call  him  'Captain  Tucker,'  after  the 
jay  hawker?"  I  suggested. 

"No,"  promptly  objected  Jack,  "it  wouldn't  be 
treatin'  the  horse  fair  to  call  him  after  such  a 
scoundrel." 

"How  would  'Black  Prince'  do?"  proposed 
Tom. 

"That  suits  me  better.  'Black  Prince'  it  shall 
be." 

Passing  successively  Cottonwood  Creek,  Big 
and  Little  Turkey  Creeks,  Little  Arkansas,  Jarvis 
Creek,  Big  and  Little  Cow  Creeks,  we  reached  Big 
Bend,  the  point  where  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  going 
westward,  first  strikes  the  Arkansas  River. 

Before  reaching  Big  Bend  we  noticed  with  un- 
easiness that  the  tires  on  our  fore  wheels  were 
becoming  loose.  At  Council  Grove,  where  we  had 
had  the  tires  of  the  hind  wheels  shrunk  and  reset, 

92 


BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND 

those  of  the  fore  wheels  had  seemed  tight  enough; 
but  since  leaving  there  the  woodwork  of  the  fore 
wheels  had  been  shrinking  more  and  more  each 
day,  until  now  something  must  be  done  to  tighten 
them  or  we  would  soon  have  a  broken-down 
wagon.  We  had  hoped  to  reach  Fort  Larned 
before  having  to  reset  these  tires,  but  from  Big 
Bend  it  was  nearly  two  days'  drive  to  the  fort. 

Seeing  old  Tom  examining  the  wheels,  I  asked: 

"Well,  Tom,  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it? 
Hadn't  we  better  take  them  fore  wheels  off  and 
throw  them  into  the  river  overnight?" 

"No,"  replied  the  old  man,  "that  would  only 
help  us  for  a  day  and  by  to-morrow  night  they'd 
be  dry  as  ever.  We'll  just  give  'em  a  plains- 
man's shrinking,  an'  that's  pretty  nigh  as  good  as 
to  have  a  blacksmith  cut  an'  weld  an'  reset  'em. 
We'll  swell  the  felloes  by  puttin'  canvas  between 
them  an*  the  tires.  The  first  thing  is  to  unload 
the  wagon." 

It  was  quite  a  job,  but  Jack  and  I  soon  had  the 
stuff  all  out  and  stacked  up  on  the  ground. 

"Now,  prop  up  the  front  ex  an'  take  off  the 
wheels." 

This  was  soon  accomplished. 

"Now,  while  I  knock  off  the  tires  you  an'  Jack 
can  get  out  your  gunny  sacks  an'  carry  up  a  whole 
lot  of  buffalo-chips  an'  pile  'em  handy." 

By  the  time  we  had  done  this  Tom  had  taken 
off  the  tires  and  laid  them  down,  one  on  top  of 

93 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  other,  raised  a  couple  of  inches  off  the  ground 
by  stones  placed  here  and  there  under  them. 

"Now  pile  your  chips  all  round  over  the  tires, 
'bout  a  foot  deep,  an'  then  set  'em  afire,  an'  the 
breeze'll  keep  the  fire  a-boomin';  an'  while  the 
tires  is  a-heating  bring  the  wheels  up  here  close  by; 
get  that  piece  of  old  canvas  out  o'  the  wagon;  cut 
some  strips  from  it  long  as  you  can  git  'em,  jist 
the  width  of  the  felloes;  get  some  of  the  tacks  out 
of  the  till  of  the  mess-chest;  put  the  canvas  strips 
on  the  outside  of  the  felloes,  draw  'em  tight,  an' 
tack  'em  here  an'  there  as  you  go  round  the  wheel 
until  you  get  about  four  thicknesses  of  canvas 
on;  then  give  the  outside  layer  of  canvas  a  little 
wettin'  so's  it  won't  burn  out  afore  we  can  git 
the  tire  cooled  off.  Then  lay  the  wheels  down 
handy  to  the  fire,  with  a  rock  here  an'  there  under 
the  rims  to  make  'em  lay  solid." 

When  this  had  all  been  done: 

"Now  get  the  shovel  an'  scoop  out  a  little, 
long  hole  in  the  ground  close  by  an'  keep  it  filled 
with  water.  Bring  the  pick  an'  shovel  an'  spade 
an'  axe  an'  hatchet  an'  lay  'em  handy.  Then 
fill  all  the  buckets  with  water  an'  set  'em  close 
by." 

The  wind  kept  the  circle  of  buffalo-chips  that 
covered  the  tires  blazing  briskly,  and  by  the  time 
the  chips  were  nearly  burnt  out  we  could  see  that 
the  tires  were  red-hot  and  knew  that  they  had  ex- 
panded enough  to  drop  over  the  canvassed  wheels. 

94 


BUFFALO  NEAR  THE  BIG  BEND 

"Now,"  resumed  Tom,  "we'll  have  to  work 
lively  an'  make  no  mislicks  when  we  drop  a  tire 
over  a  wheel  so's  to  get  it  cooled  an'  shrunk  on 
afore  it  burns  out  the  canvas.  We'll  have  to  use 
the  pick  an'  spade  an'  shovel  to  lift  'em  out  o'  the 
fire  an'  drop  'em  over  the  wheels.  Peck,  you 
take  the  pick,  Jack  the  shovel,  an'  I'll  take  the 
spade.  When  all's  ready  I'll  give  the  word,  an', 
Peck,  you  stick  the  point  of  your  pick  under  the 
top  tire  an'  lift  it  up  a  little  so's  me  an'  Jack  can 
slip  our  shovel  an'  spade  under  it;  then  the  three 
of  us'll  lift  the  tire  out  of  the  fire  an'  lay  it  in  its 
place  over  the  wheel  an'  then  go  to  pourin'  water 
on,  an'  quick  as  it's  shrunk  enough  to  stay  on 
Jack'll  run  his  shovel  handle  through  the  hole  in 
the  hub,  pry  the  wheel  up,  an'  with  one  of  you  on 
each  side,  a-holt  of  the  shovel  handle,  you  can 
hold  the  wheel  over  the  pool  of  water  with  the 
lower  rim  in  the  water  while  I  spin  it  'round,  an', 
with  axe  in  one  hand  an'  hatchet  in  the  other,  I'll 
hammer  the  tire  to  its  place  as  it  shrinks.  Now, 
do  you  men  'savvy'  all  them  instructions?" 

We  "savvied,"  and,  following  Tom's  directions, 
we  soon  had  both  tires  nicely  reset  and  shrunk, 
and  it  made  a  very  substantial  job.  It  was  hot 
and  laborious  work  and  gave  us  unusually  keen 
appetites  for  the  supper  that  followed,  which 
Tom  prepared,  while  Jack  and  I  reloaded  our 
wagon. 


95 


CHAPTER  X 
WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

A  FTER  supper,  as  we  lay  on  our  beds  in  the 
•*•  ^-  tent  talking  over  old  times,  Jack  recalled  to 
my  mind  the  Cheyenne  campaign  of  1857  and 
how  we  used  to  gather  wild  plums  in  the  sand- 
hills near  where  we  were  now  camped.  He  spoke 
also  of  a  man  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake  near  here. 
This  called  out  a  story  from  Tom,  who  said : 

"Speakin'  of  rattlesnakes  reminds  me  of  a  little 
incident  that  happened  out  in  New  Mexico  when 
I  was  in  the  old  First  Dragoons.  I  was  a  ser- 
geant, an*  we  had  a  new  recruit  in  the  company 
by  the  name  of  Nesbit — a  mighty  quiet  sort  of  a 
feller  that  the  men  called  a  'stoughton-bottle,'  or  a 
'bump  on  a  log* — a  good  man  for  duty,  only  he 
didn't  make  free  with  the  other  men  or  have 
much  to  say  to  anybody.  He  had  a  fashion  in  hot 
weather,  when  he  was  loungin'  about  camp  off 
duty,  of  goin'  barefooted,  with  the  bottoms  of  his 
pants  an'  drawers  rolled  up  several  inches. 

"One  day,  when  we  was  camped  on  the  Rio 
Grande,  water  call  had  jest  gone,  an'  we'd  all 
started  out  from  our  tents  to  water  our  horses 
an'  picket  'em  out  on  fresh  grass.  I  was  walkin'  a 
few  steps  behind  Nesbit  when  I  heard  the  whiz- 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

whir  of  a  rattlesnake  in  the  direction  of  the  man, 
an'  as  I  looked  to'rds  him  I  was  horrified  to  see  a 
big  rattler  that  seemed  to  have  hold  of  one  of  his 
ankles  an'  was  a-jerkin'  an'  squirmin'  an'  wrap- 
pin'  itself  all  'round  his  leg;  but,  as  I  found  out 
afterward,  the  snake  had  struck  at  his  ankle  an' 
caught  a  mouthful  of  the  roll  of  Nesbit's  trousers 
an'  got  his  fangs  tangled  so's  he  couldn't  git  loose 
but  hadn't  touched  the  leg  at  all. 

"Well,  sir,  I  was  nearly  paralyzed  with  fear 
an'  was  tryin'  to  think  of  some  way  I  could  help 
the  man  but  didn't  see  how.  He  never  said  a 
word,  but  just  reached  down  as  cool  as  ef  he  was 
goin'  to  pluck  a  flower,  grabbed  the  snake  right 
back  of  its  head  so  close  it  couldn't  turn  to  bite 
his  hand  when  it  got  its  fangs  loose,  then  pulled 
its  fangs  loose  from  the  roll  of  his  trousers  an* 
pulled  the  snake  away  from  where  it  was  wrapped 
around  his  leg.  It  coiled  itself  around  his  arm 
an'  kep'  its  rattle  a-hummin',  and  I  couldn't 
imagine  how  he  was  goin'  to  get  rid  of  it  without 
gettin'  bit. 

"Well,  it  all  happened  quicker'n  scat,  an5  while 
I  was  a-tryin'  to  study  out  some  way  I  could  help 
him  out  he  knew  just  what  to  do  an'  was  a-doing 
it  without  asking  anybody's  help. 

"He  just  reached  for  his  belt  with  the  other 
hand,  pulled  his  butcher-knife,  sliced  the  snake's 
head  off  clean — taking  a  slice  out  of  his  finger  in 
doing  it,  shook  the  snake  loose  from  his  arm  an' 

97 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

dropped  it,  stooped  down  an*  dug  a  little  hole 
with  his  knife,  raked  the  snake's  head  into  it  an* 
covered  it  up  so's  nobody  would  tramp  on  it  with 
bare  feet  an'  get  pizened,  wiped  his  knife  on  his 
britches'  leg  an'  returned  it  to  the  sheath,  tore  a 
piece  off  his  ol'  hankercher  an'  wrapped  his  cut 
finger  up,  an'  went  on  an'  'tended  to  his  horse — 
all  without  sayin'  a  word  or  makin'  any  fuss;  an' 
when  I  got  my  breath  enough  to  say,  'Nesbit,  that 
was  a  close  call,'  he  merely  remarked  indifferent 
like:  'Yes,  but  you  know  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a 
mile.' 

"It  had  all  been  done  so  quietly  an'  quickly 
that  the  other  men  passin'  by  hadn't  noticed 
what  was  goin'  on. 

"Well,  sir,  I  count  that  one  of  the  coolest,  grit- 
tiest things  I  ever  saw  done,  an'  when  I  got  back 
to  camp  I  went  an'  told  the  orderly  sergeant  about 
it,  an'  he  had  to  go  an'  tell  the  captain;  an'  then 
the  captain  sent  for  me,  an'  I  had  to  tell  him  all 
the  particulars;  an'  when  I  got  through  all  the  ol* 
man  had  to  say  was,  'He'll  do,'  but  I  could  see 
that  the  captain  was  mightily  pleased  with  the 
raw  recruit. 

"Well,  the  upshot  of  it  was  the  next  evenin'  at 
'retreat'  the  orderly  sergeant  published  an  order 
to  the  company  to  the  effect  that  'Private  Nesbit 
is  hereby  appointed  corporal  an'  will  be  obeyed 
an'  respected  accordingly.' 

'You  see,  the  captain  saw  from  that  little  affair 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

of  the  snake  that  Nesbit  was  something  more  than 
a  'bump  on  a  log/  an'  so  he  give  the  man  a  lift 
to  start  him,  an'  in  a  little  while  he  was  made  ser- 
geant; an'  then,  when  the  ol'  orderly  sergeant's 
time  was  out  an'  he  was  discharged,  Nesbit  was 
made  first  sergeant  right  over  the  heads  of  us  old 
hands  who'd  been  in  the  service  a  heap  longer. 
But  he  deserved  it,  an'  I  never  begrudged  him  the 
promotion,  for  he  made  one  of  the  best  orderly  ser- 
geants I  ever  knew — always  the  same  quiet,  cool, 
nervy  Nesbit." 

"I  always  told  you,"  remarked  Jack,  "that  it 
won't  do  to  set  a  man  down  for  a  fool  'cause  his 
clo's  don't  fit  him. 

"Changin'  the  subject,"  said  Jack,  "it's  about 
five  miles  from  here  up  to  Charley  Rath's  ranch, 
at  the  mouth  of  Walnut  Creek;  ain't  it,  Tom?" 

"Yes;  five  miles  to  Walnut  Creek,  sixteen  from 
there  to  Pawnee  Rock,  eight  miles  from  the 
Rock  to  the  crossin'  of  Ash  Creek,  six  from  Ash 
Creek  to  Pawnee  Fork,  an'  three  miles,  after 
crossing  Pawnee  Fork,  on  up  the  creek  will  bring 
us  to  Fort  Larned,  which  is  two  miles  and  a  half 
off  the  Santa  Fe  road,  but  in  plain  sight  of  it." 

"I  was  thinkin',"  continued  Jack,  "about  the 
Walnut  Creek  ranch  an'  some  o'  the  lively  times 
it's  seen  since  I  first  know'd  it.  In  '57,  when  we 
come  out  here  on  the  Cheyenne  expedition,  Allison 
owned  it.  Many's  the  time  the  Injuns  made  life 
a  burden  to  Allison,  but  still  he  saved  his  scalp 

99 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

an'  died  on  the  square.  In  '58  he  left  his  hired 
man,  Peacock,  in  charge  of  the  ranch  while  he 
took  his  teams  an'  went  in  to  Westport,  Missouri, 
after  goods.  On  that  trip  Allison  died  suddenly 
at  Westport,  an',  as  he  had  no  kinsfolk  at  the 
ranch  an'  none  ever  come  out  to  claim  it,  Peacock 
jumped  the  claim  an'  held  it  as  his  own.  He,  too, 
had  some  lively  times  with  the  Injuns  an'  was 
finally  killed  by  ol'  Satank,  in  the  summer  of  1860. 
An'  then  Charley  Rath  jumped  the  claim  an'  still 
holds  it,  but  more'n  likely  he,  too,  will  lose  his 
napper  to  some  o'  the  Indians  yet.  It  was  near 
the  ranch,  when  Peacock  had  it,  that  Pawnee,  the 
Kiowa  chief,  was  killed  by  Lieutenant  Bayard; 
wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "I  was  in  at  the  death  and 
had  an  opportunity  to  have  done  the  killing  my- 
self that  day,  but  Lieutenant  Bayard  came  up  and 
took  the  job  off  my  hands.  You  see,  I  was  one  of 
the  first  to  mount  and  start  in  chase  of  the  Indian 
after  he'd  escaped  from  the  ranch,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  was  racing  across  the  level  prairie  north 
of  the  ranch.  I  was  riding  that  speedy  little  bay 
horse  that  we  called  ' Greased  Lightning,'  that  the 
officers  used  in  making  races.  I'd  got  the  start  of 
Bayard  and  the  rest,  overtook  the  Indian  in  about 
a  mile  and  was  right  alongside  of  him,  with  Lieu- 
tenant Bayard  coming  up  just  behind  me,  and 
when  I  called  back  to  the  lieutenant  to  ask  whether 
I  should  shoot  the  Kiowa  he  replied,  'No,  let  me 

100 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

speak  to  him/  and  I  gave  way  and  let  Bayard 
come  in  between  me  and  Pawnee.  Bayard  called 
on  him  a  couple  of  times  to  halt,  on  the  second 
demand  firing  a  shot  in  front  of  the  Indian  as  a 
warning,  and  when  he  found  that  the  Indian 
only  jeered  and  made  faces  at  him  the  lieutenant 
reined  in  a  little  and  let  the  Kiowa  go  ahead,  and, 
as  he  did  so,  dropped  his  pistol  to  Pawnee's  back, 
saying,  'Take  it,  then/  and  let  him  have  it — shoot- 
ing him  through  the  heart.  Pawnee  threw  up  his 
hands  and  fell  off  his  horse  dead." 

"Well,  by  rights/'  said  Jack,  "you'd  overtook 
the  Injun  first  an*  had  the  best  right  to  have  done 
that  job,  but  Bayard  took  advantage  of  his  bein' 
an  officer  over  you  to  hog  the  honors." 

"I  didn't  consider  that  there  was  any  particu- 
lar honor  in  killing  that  Indian,  under  the  circum- 
stances," I  replied,  "but  I  should  have  done  so  if 
the  lieutenant  had  said  the  word.  But  Bayard 
seemed  to  think  that  the  Indian  would  halt  and 
surrender  on  his  demand,  and  when  the  Kiowa  not 
only  refused  to  yield  but  defied  him,  why,  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  kill  him.  We 
thought  it  strange  at  first  that  Pawnee  should  act 
so  defiantly  when  we  had  the  drop  on  him,  but 
Peacock  told  us  when  we  got  back  to  the  ranch 
that  this  Indian  carried  a  medicine  or  charm  hung 
around  his  neck  that  was  supposed  to  protect  him 
from  a  white  man's  bullet,  and  when  the  lieuten- 
ant fired  a  shot  and  missed  him  he  was  sure  he 

101 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

was  bullet-proof;  but  Bayard's  bullet  killed  him 
so  quick  that  he  hardly  had  time  to  feel  disap- 
pointed." 

"I  don't  know  but  what  it  was  best,  after  all," 
remarked  old  Tom,  "seein'  that  the  Injun  had  to 
be  killed,  for  an  officer  to  do  it,  for  after  that  shot 
the  Kiowas  started  on  the  war-path  an'  caused 
the  loss  of  a  good  many  lives  of  innocent  people 
an'  give  the  troops  a  whole  lot  of  trouble  an'  hard 
service  for  a  year  or  more  afterward.  Ef  it  had 
'a'  been  an  enlisted  man  fired  that  shot  he'd  'a' 
been  court-martialled  an'  punished,  more'n  likely, 
instead  of  being  honored.  So  I  guess  Peck  lost 
nothin'  by  it,  for  Bayard  was  sharply  reprimanded 
an'  had  to  do  a  whole  lot  of  explaining  to  get  out 
of  trouble  for  that  little  job.  As  to  the  killing  of 
Pawnee  bein'  the  real  cause  of  the  Kiowa  out- 
break, that  was  the  idea  that  some  fool  people 
back  East  got  of  it;  but  none  of  us  ever  believed 
that,  for  we  knew  from  the  actions  of  ol'  Satank 
an'  his  band  for  some  time  before  that,  they  was 
bound  to  go  on  the  war-path  with  or  without 
provocation,  an'  they  seized  on  the  killin'  of  one  o' 
their  chiefs  as  an  excuse  for  turnin'  loose  on  the 
Pike's  Peak  emigrants  an'  others  along  the  road." 

"You'll  remember,"  said  Jack,  "that  I  wasn't 
with  you  the  next  summer  on  the  Kiowa  expedi- 
tion, for  I'd  been  left  back  at  Fort  Riley,  in  the 
hospital,  but  I  know  Peck  an'  you" — speaking  di- 
rectly to  Tom — "was  both  with  Major  Sedgwick's 

102 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

command  in  this  part  of  the  country  when  Pea- 
cock was  killed;  an',  as  I've  heard  two  or  three 
different  stories  about  that  affair,  I'd  like  to  know 
the  straight  of  it.  Tell  me  jist  how  it  happened." 

"Well,  sir,"  began  old  Tom  as  he  raised  up  and 
began  whittling  another  pipeful  of  tobacco,  "I 
can  give  you  the  straight  facts  about  that  scrape, 
for  I  got  'em  from  Charley  Rath  an'  the  sick  man 
—you  know  at  the  time  Satank  killed  Peacock 
there  was  a  man  sick  in  bed  in  the  ranch  that  the 
Injuns  never  touched,  an'  he  was  the  only  one  of 
Peacock's  men  left  alive,  'cept  Wild  Bill  an'  John 
Adkins,  an'  they  was  away  from  the  ranch  some- 
where. After  peace  was  made  with  the  Kiowas 
an'  they  got  to  comin'  around  to  the  Walnut  Creek 
ranch  to  trade  ag'in,  Charley  Rath  was  runnin' 
it,  an'  he  got  all  the  particulars  about  it  from  the 
Indians  who  was  with  Satank  when  he  killed  Pea- 
cock. So  I  think  I  got  it  pretty  straight. 

"You'll  remember  that  we — that  is,  Major  Sedg- 
wick's  command  of  four  companies  of  First  Cav- 
alry from  Fort  Riley — had  been  chasin'  the  Ki- 
owas 'round  over  the  plains  all  summer,  but  hadn't 
been  able  to  get  a  fight  out  of  'em  'cept  that  little 
scrimmage  our  detachment  of  forty  men  under  Jeb 
Stuart  had  with  Satank  an'  a  little  bunch  up  north 
of  Bent's  Fort,  where  we  killed  eight  of  'em  an' 
captured  all  their  women  an'  children  an'  packs. 

"Captain  Sturgis,  with  four  companies  from 
Fort  Arbuckle,  had  also  come  up  into  this  country 

103 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

on  the  same  errand  as  us — huntin'  the  Kiowas — 
an*  he'd  had  better  luck,  for  he  caught  'em  up  on 
the  Republican  Fork  an'  had  a  nice  little  fight 
an'  killed  a  whole  lot  of  'em. 

"I'm  givin'  you  all  this  preamble  to  give  you  a 
clear  idee  of  the  situation  that  led  up  to  the  killing 
of  Peacock.  There  was  a  slight  split  among  the 
Kiowas  durin'  this  war,  for  oP  To  hausen — Little 
Mountain — their  head  chief,  with  a  few  of  the 
cool-headed  older  warriors  of  the  tribe,  had  re- 
fused to  join  Satank  an'  the  hostiles  in  makin'  war 
on  the  whites,  an'  To  hausen,  with  his  little  band, 
had  kept  out  o'  the  way  for  fear  of  bein'  mistaken 
by  us  for  the  hostiles.  But  the  biggest  part  of  the 
tribe,  under  the  leadership  of  Satank  an'  Satanta 
an'  Big  Tree,  was  a-doin'  their  level  best  to  wipe 
out  every  white  man,  woman,  an'  child  on  the 
plains. 

"Satank  was  the  recognized  leader  of  the  hos- 
tiles an'  was  always  very  bitter  in  his  hatred  of 
the  whites. 

"As  our  two  commands,  Sturgis's  an'  Sedg- 
wick's,  had  kep'  him  on  the  jump  purty  lively 
durin'  the  summer,  an'  he'd  got  the  worst  of  it  all 
'round,  'long  in  the  last  of  August  or  fore  part  of 
September,  I  think  it  was,  Satank  seemed  to  con- 
clude— as  the  time  was  soon  coming  when  the 
Injun  agent  at  Bent's  Fort  would  be  a-giving  out 
the  annuities  that  Uncle  Sam  sends  out  every  fall 
to  the  peaceable  Injuns — that  he'd  better  make  a 

104 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

treaty  with  Major  Sedgwick  for  the  winter,  any- 
way, so's  him  an'  his  band  could  come  in  for  their 
share  of  the  presents.  So  he  applied  to  Peacock 
for  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  Major  Sedgwick, 
thinkin'  that  a  letter  from  such  a  prominent  trader 
would  help  him  to  make  easy  terms  with  Sedgwick. 
"Well,  sir,  right  there's  where  Peacock  made 
the  blunder  of  his  life,  an'  it  cost  him  his  life, 
too.  Peacock  was  a  pretty  smart  man  an'  was  ac- 
quainted with  nearly  every  Kiowa  in  the  tribe,  an' 
it's  hard  to  understand  how  he  could  be  so  fool- 
ish as  to  do  the  way  he  did.  But  Satank  an'  his 
band  had  made  him  a  heap  o'  trouble  durin'  this 
last  outbreak,  an'  now  Peacock  thought  he  saw  a 
chance  to  even  up  with  his  old  enemy.  So,  instead 
of  writin'  a  letter  to  Sedgwick  askin'  mild  treat- 
ment an'  makin'  excuses  for  Satank  an'  his  scalp- 
ers, he  wrote  one  reading  something  like  this: 

MAJOR  SEDGWICK, 

Commanding  Kiowa  Expedition : 
The  bearer  of  this  is  Satank,  the  leader  of  the  hostile 
Kiowas  and  the  instigator  of  all,  and  the  actual  per- 
petrator of  many  of  the  atrocious  murders  and  outrages 
that  have  been  committed  on  innocent  men,  women, 
and  children  on  the  plains  during  this  last  outbreak. 
He  is,  by  long  odds,  the  worst  Indian  on  the  plains,  and 
you  can't  do  the  country  a  greater  service  than  to  kill 
him  on  sight. 

(Signed)  PEACOCK. 

"Here  was  the  unaccountable  part  of  Peacock's 
folly.    He  certainly  knew  that  that  low-down  rene- 

105 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

gade  Englishman  that  they  called  ' English  Jim* 
was  living  among  the  Kiowas  at  this  time;  but  Jim 
was  a  brute  an'  appeared  to  be  so  ignorant  Pea- 
cock must  have  supposed  either  that  the  fellow 
would  be  unable  to  read  writing  or  else  that  Sa- 
tank  would  never  doubt  the  genuineness  of  his 
recommendation  and  would,  therefore,  take  no 
steps  to  test  it.  But  there's  where  the  trader 
fooled  himself. 

"The  Kiowas  were  camped  across  the  Arkansas, 
a  few  miles  south  from  the  ranch.  Charley  Rath 
an'  his  pardner,  George  Long,  had  just  begun  to 
build  them  a  ranch-house  here  at  the  Bend,  close 
to  where  we  are  now  camped,  an'  could  see  the 
Kiowas  passing  back  an'  forth  across  the  river. 

"When  Satank  received  the  paper  from  Pea- 
cock he  and  a  few  men  who  was  with  him  went 
straight  back  to  their  camp,  give  the  document  to 
'English  Jim,'  an*  axed  him  to  read  it  an'  interpret 
it  into  Kiowa,  which  he  did. 

"As  soon  as  Satank  heard  the  purport  of  the 
paper  an'  understood  the  trick  Peacock  was  trying 
to  play  him,  he  an'  the  same  gang  mounted  their 
horses  an'  rode  right  back  to  Peacock's  to  settle 
the  account.  On  reaching  the  ranch,  as  an  excuse 
for  their  sudden  return  an'  to  keep  Peacock  from 
suspecting  what  he  was  up  to,  Satank  an'  his  men 
never  dismounted,  but  sat  on  their  horses  outside 
the  gate  an'  called  to  Peacock  in  Mexican — the 
Kiowas  an'  Comanches  can  nearly  all  talk  a  little 

106 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

Mexican — says  he  to  Peacock,  says  he,  '  Bring 
your  spy-glass  out  an'  look  down  the  road  an' 
see  ef  this  is  a  lot  of  soldiers  a-coming', — when 
there  was  no  soldiers  in  sight  nor  anything  that 
looked  like  'em. 

"Never  suspecting  the  trap  that  Satank  had 
laid  for  him,  Peacock  come  out  with  his  long  tele- 
scope an',  resting  it  on  the  end  of  a  log  sticking 
out  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  begun  looking 
through  it  in  the  direction  Satank  pointed. 

"While  busy  tryr  g  to  focus  the  glass  on  a  little 
cloud  of  dust  that:  Satank  kept  tryin'  to  point 
out  to  him,  the  ol'  rascal  put  the  muzzle  of  his 
rifle  to  the  back  of  Peacock's  head  an'  put  a  ball 
through  his  brains.  While  Satank  dismounted  to 
scalp  Peacock  his  warriors  rushed  into  the  en- 
closure through  the  gate  that  Peacock  had  left 
open  as  he  come  out,  an'  it  was  such  a  complete 
surprise  to  the  ranchmen  that  they  were  all  soon 
killed  'cept  the  sick  man  I  spoke  of.  They  found 
him  in  bed  but  never  offered  to  disturb  him.  I've 
known  of  Injuns,  several  times,  a-sparing  sick  peo- 
ple thataway,  but  don't  know  why,  unless  they 
have  a  superstition  ag'in  harming  sick  folks. 

"When  Rath  an'  Long,  down  here  at  the  Bend, 
saw  the  Kiowas  going  back  across  the  river, 
a-drivin'  Peacock's  herd,  they  begun  to  think 
something  was  wrong,  so  they  got  out  their  spy- 
glass, took  a  close  look,  an',  although  the  Injuns 
was  two  or  three  miles  away,  could  see  that  they 

107 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

had  a  lot  of  the  ponies  packed  with  what  seemed 
to  be  some  of  Peacock's  goods.  This  made  'em 
suspect  that  the  Injuns  had  captured  an'  plun- 
dered the  ranch,  ef  they  hadn't  killed  Peacock  an 
his  men;  so  they  dropped  their  work,  mounted 
their  horses,  an*  went  a-flying  up  to  Peacock's  to 
see  what  was  up,  an'  found  all  hands  killed  'cept 
the  sick  man,  an'  he  told  'em  what  little  he'd  seen 
an'  heerd  of  the  fracas,  from  where  he  lay  in  bed, 
not  bein*  able  to  get  out,  an'  how  after  killing  the 
other  men  the  Injuns  had  come  to  the  open  door 
of  the  room  where  he  lay  helpless  an'  fully  expect- 
ing to  be  murdered,  an'  how  surprised  an'  glad  he 
was  when  they  turned  away  without  disturbin'  him. 
"Peacock  had  left  no  heirs  on  the  place,  an' 
there  was  no  one  in  this  part  of  the  country  that 
had  any  claim  on  it,  so  Rath  an*  Long  decided  to 
abandon  the  ranch  they  had  just  begun  to  build 
here  at  the  Bend  an'  move  up  an*  take  possession 
of  Peacock's  place,  jumping  the  claim,  same  as 
Peacock  had  done  after  Allison  died.  An'  Rath 
is  holding  it  yet,  but  George  Long  quit  the  busi- 
ness an*  went  back  to  the  settlements — got  scared 
out,  I  guess.  Charley  Rath — barring  the  everlast- 
ing danger  from  Injuns — has  got  a  bully  good  lay- 
out in  that  Walnut  Creek  ranch,  both  for  trade 
of  the  road  an*  for  Injun  trade,  for  there  he  gits 
part  of  the  trade  of  Kiowas,  Comanches,  Chey- 
ennes,  an'  'Rapahoes;  but  it's  more  directly  in  the 
Kiowa  range  than  the  others." 

108 


WHY  SATANK  KILLED  PEACOCK 

"Well,  Tom,"  I  asked  as  the  old  man  seemed 
to  be  at  the  end  of  his  yarn,  "as  the  Kiowas  are 
now  living  under  a  treaty,  do  you  think  their 
friendship  is  to  be  depended  on?" 

"I  wouldn't  feel  a  bit  uneasy  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  ol'  To  hausen's  band,  for  him  an'  his  fol- 
lowers has  kept  faith  with  the  whites  right  along, 
through  all  the  late  troubles.  He's  one  of  the  few 
good  Injuns.  But  his  band  is  a  small  part  of  the 
tribe  now  though  he  used  to  be  their  head  chief. 
Most  of  the  Kiowas  follow  the  lead  of  Satank  now, 
an'  you  know  Satank  hates  a  white  man  as  the 
devil  hates  holy  water,  an',  although  he  may  keep 
the  peace  for  a  while,  it  ain't  to  be  depended  on. 
I  would  never  feel  perfectly  safe  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Satank's  band.  An'  then  Satanta  an'  Big 
Tree  run  with  him,  an'  they're  as  bad  as  Satank." 

"What  I  was  thinking  of,"  I  added,  "is  that  the 
winter  camp  we're  intending  to  establish,  north 
of  Fort  Larned,  will  be  right  in  the  range  of  the 
Kiowas,  and  if  they  should  happen  to  find  our 
layout  in  the  course  of  the  winter  they  might 
make  trouble  for  us." 

"Well,  we  won't  borry  any  trouble  on  that 
score.  We  knew  there  was  a  risk  to  run  afore  we 
undertook  the  expedition.  When  a  man  goes  into 
the  country  of  hostile  or  doubtful  Injuns  he  takes 
his  risk.  But  at  this  time  of  the  year  the  chances 
are  that  we  won't  see  any  Injuns,  'cause  they  gen- 
erally hole  up  in  as  snug  shelter  as  they  can  find 

109 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

in  winter  an'  don't  ramble  about  much.  An* 
then,  ag'in,  we'll  not  be  more'n  twenty  miles  from 
Fort  Larned,  and  they'd  hardly  dare  to  disturb  us 
ef  they  should  find  our  camp." 


no 


CHAPTER  XI 
WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

,  men,"  said  old  Tom  as  we  gathered 
around  the  mess  box  for  breakfast  next 
morning,  "we  want  to  get  an  early  start  for  we've 
got  a  big  drive  before  us.  It's  only  about  thirty- 
eight  miles  from  here  to  Fort  Larned,  but  that's 
too  much  to  do  with  a  load  in  one  day;  an*  we 
can't  divide  the  distance  equally  because  there's 
no  water  anywhere  nigh  the  half-way  p'int.  By 
takin'  the  river  road  we  could  get  water  to  camp 
at  the  half-way  station,  but  that  route,  by  way  of 
the  mouth  of  Pawnee  Fork,  would  take  us  four 
miles  out  of  our  way,  an'  part  of  it's  a  sandy, 
heavy  road  for  the  team.  So  I've  concluded  it'll 
be  best  for  us  to  go  the  main  road  by  Pawnee 
Rock  an'  camp  at  Ash  Creek.  That'll  make 
about  twenty-nine  miles  for  to-day's  drive,  an* 
then  we'll  only  have  nine  miles  to-morrow  mornin' 
to  knock  off  to  reach  the  fort.  We  can  easy  do 
that  by  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  an'  have  the 
rest  of  the  day  to  look  up  some  old  acquaintances 
there  an'  make  some  inquiries  about  the  best 
p'int  over  on  Walnut  to  locate  our  winter  camp 
an'  how  best  to  get  there.  Ef  French  Dave,  the 

in 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

interpreter,  is  at  Larned  he'll  tell  us  all  we  want 
to  know  about  it.  If  Wild  Bill  was  here,  he'd  go 
right  along  an'  guide  us  to  a  snug  place  for  our 
camp,  'cause  he  knows  every  foot  o'  the  ground. 
It's  all  open  prairie  from  Pawnee  to  Walnut,  an' 
once  we  get  across  Pawnee  Fork  we  can't  miss  it 
ef  we  just  follow  the  buffalo  trails." 

We  rolled  out  from  Big  Bend  by  sunrise,  made  a 
short  stop  at  Rath's  ranch  to  renew  old  acquain- 
tance with  Charley,  and  in  the  evening  camped  at 
the  crossing  of  Ash  Creek,  a  small  stream  with  a 
little  timber  along  its  banks. 

We  reached  Fort  Larned  by  ten  o'clock  next 
morning.  I  left  Tom  and  Jack  to  inquire  for  mail, 
while  I  went  to  the  adjutant's  office  to  report  our 
arrival  and  destination;  after  which  I  rejoined  the 
outfit  at  the  sutler's. 

"Well,  now,  men,"  said  old  Tom,  gathering  up 
the  mail  matter  and  putting  it  away  in  the  wagon, 
"we  must  first  hunt  a  camp,  an'  then  we  can 
spend  the  rest  of  the  day  reading  our  papers  an' 
letters  an'  rounding  up  old  acquaintances  about 
the  garrison  an'  getting  ready  to  go  on  to  Walnut 
Creek  in  the  mornin*.  I'm  told  that  we  can  get 
pretty  good  grass  by  crossin'  the  creek  here  an' 
going  half  a  mile  up  on  the  other  side.  We'll  go 
an'  make  camp  an'  eat  dinner,  an'  then,  leaving 
one  man  to  take  care  o'  camp,  the  others  can  come 
back  and  take  in  the  garrison." 

A  little  crowd  of  idlers  had  gathered  around  our 
112 


WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

team.  A  soldier  volunteered  to  guide  us  to  a  good 
crossing  and  camp,  and  we  soon  had  our  animals 
turned  out  and  tent  pitched,  and,  while  Tom  and 
Jack  were  getting  the  dinner,  at  their  request  I 
overhauled  first  the  letters  and  then  the  papers, 
reading  to  my  comrades  the  most  interesting 
items  as  I  came  to  them. 

The  papers  and  magazines  were  full  of  exciting 
and  interesting  news  concerning  the  progress  of 
the  war,  then  just  getting  under  good  headway. 
Of  letters  we  got  but  few,  the  most  interesting  of 
which  to  me  was  one  from  the  girl  I  had  left  be- 
hind me  and  another  from  the  old  storekeeper 
and  postmaster  back  at  the  camp  where  we  had 
encountered  the  jayhawkers. 

The  storekeeper  informed  us  that  no  inquiry 
had  been  made  for  the  black  horse,  and  he  did 
not  think  it  likely  that  there  would  be  as  he  had 
learned  that  Tucker  and  his  gang  had  stolen  many 
of  their  best  horses  from  over  the  border  in  Mis- 
souri and  the  black  horse  was  probably  one  of 
them. 

He  also  informed  us  that,  following  out  the  plan 
suggested  by  Tom,  his  neighbor  had  trailed  the 
jayhawkers  to  their  new  camp  down  on  the  Neosho 
River,  near  Emporia;  that  a  few  days  after  we 
left  a  company  of  cavalry  had  arrived  from  Fort 
Leavenworth,  in  answer  to  the  letter  he  had  writ- 
ten to  the  commander  of  the  department,  looking 
for  the  gang  of  outlaws,  and  the  man  who  had  fol- 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

lowed  them  and  located  their  camp  guided  the 
soldiers  to  the  jayhawkers'  new  layout,  where  the 
cavalrymen  succeeded  in  surrounding  and  captur- 
ing the  whole  gang  and  taking  them  as  prison- 
ers to  Fort  Leavenworth. 

"Well,  who's  going  to  mind  camp,  an*  who's 
going  over  to  the  fort?"  said  Jack  when  dinner 
was  over. 

"We'll  draw  straws  for  it,"  said  Tom  decisively. 
"Peck,  you  prepare  the  straws,  two  long  ones  an* 
a  short  one,  an'  the  man  who  gets  the  short  one 
stays." 

I  did  as  directed.  Tom  and  Jack  drew  the  long 
straws,  and  I  got  left. 

"Well,  rack  out  now,  you  fellows,  and  I'll  have 
a  good  time  reading  the  papers  while  you're  gone," 
said  I,  trying  to  console  myself  for  the  lonesome 
afternoon  I  expected  to  have. 

But  I  was  not  left  alone  long,  for  presently  a 
couple  of  strolling  soldiers  from  the  garrison 
dropped  in,  and  we  passed  some  time  in  exchang- 
ing information,  I  giving  them  the  latest  news 
from  the  settlements,  and  they  telling  the  gossip  of 
Fort  Larned  and  vicinity. 

We  had  not  been  out  of  sight  of  herds  of  buffalo 
since  we  had  entered  the  range  till  we  crossed 
Pawnee  Fork,  but  here,  near  the  fort,  where  they 
had  probably  been  hunted  more  than  elsewhere, 
they  were  scarce,  though  this  was  about  the  centre 
of  their  range  east  and  west.  The  soldiers  said 

114 


WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

that  a  few  miles  out  in  any  direction  we  would 
find  them  numerous  again. 

To  my  comrades  and  me  the  country  about 
Fort  Larned  was  familiar  ground.  As  already 
stated,  our  company — K  of  the  old  First  Cavalry, 
afterward  changed  to  Fourth  Cavalry — had  built 
and  occupied  the  original  military  post,  called 
"Camp  Alert,"  in  the  adjoining  bend  of  the 
creek,  below  Fort  Larned,  in  the  fall  of  '59,  when 
the  Kiowas  were  on  the  war-path.  During  that 
winter  we  had  been  stationed  there,  escorting  the 
Santa  Fe  mails  and  giving  what  protection  we 
could  to  travel  on  the  roads  to  New  Mexico  and 
the  Pike's  Peak  gold  region.  By  the  following 
spring  (1860),  the  War  Department  had  ordered  a 
permanent  post  established  at  or  near  "Camp 
Alert,"  to  be  called  Fort  Larned.  This  post  was 
built  by  the  two  companies  of  Second  Infantry 
that  were  sent  to  relieve  us,  while  we,  joining 
Major  Sedgwick's  command  from  Fort  Riley,  went 
on  the  Kiowa  expedition. 

My  two  years  of  hard  service  along  the  Arkansas 
gave  me  an  interest  in  everything  that  had  hap- 
pened in  this  part  of  the  country,  and  I  kept  my 
soldier  visitors  plied  with  questions  about  persons 
and  events  until  the  approach  of  sunset  warned 
them  to  return  to  the  post  to  prepare  for  dress 
parade. 

Tom  and  Jack  remained  at  the  garrison  till  after 
dress  parade  and  then  joined  me  in  time  for  the 
supper  which  I  had  prepared. 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

In  narrating  the  results  of  his  inquiries  at  the 
post  Tom  said : 

"As  we  had  all  been  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
Weisselbaum  when  he  used  to  keep  the  little  store 
in  Ogden,  near  Fort  Riley,  before  he  got  to  be 
sutler  of  this  post,  I  thought  I  would  first  call  on 
him  an'  renew  old  acquaintance.  When  I  tried 
to  remind  him  who  I  was  an'  the  many  times  I 
had  been  in  his  store  at  Ogden  an'  bought  goods 
of  him  he  couldn't  rememb^v  me  at  all.  An' 
then  I  asked  him  if  he  remembered  Jack  an'  Peck, 
tellin'  him  that  you  was  both  here  with  me  an' 
the  object  of  our  trip  an'  so  forth,  but  he  couldn't 
recall  either  of  us  an'  looked  at  me  kind  of  sus- 
picious like,  as  though  he  was  afraid  I  was  goin' 
to  ask  him  to  credit  me  for  a  plug  of  tobacco  or 
something  of  that  kind. 

"To  set  him  straight  on  that  point  I  called  for 
a  couple  of  cigars,  an'  in  paying  for  'em  I  managed 
to  show  several  greenbacks,  an',  my,  what  a 
change  come  over  his  countenance  when  he  saw 
that  money!  The  sight  of  them  greenbacks  at 
once  refreshed  his  recollection. 

"He  suggested  that  we  should  leave  our  surplus 
money  in  his  safe,  and  I  believe  it's  a  good  scheme, 
for  we'll  have  no  use  for  money  over  on  the  Wal- 
nut, where  we're  going,  an*  we  might  lose  it.  Peck 
might  go  over  to  the  store  now,  takin'  Jack  along 
for  a  witness,  an'  deposit  our  money  with  the  sut- 
ler an'  take  a  receipt  for  it;  an'  if  we  have  occasion 

116 


WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

to  draw  any  of  it  out  at  any  time  it  can  be  en- 
tered on  the  back  of  the  receipt.  Savvy?" 

We  "savvied"  and  agreed  to  Tom's  plan. 

"  Weisselbaum  told  me,"  continued  the  old  man, 
"where  to  find  'French  Dave/  an'  Dave  told  me 
that  it's  all  plain  sailing  an'  about  twenty  miles 
from  here  over  to  Walnut  in  the  nearest  direction, 
straight  north;  an'  there'll  be  no  rough  ground 
to  get  over  except  the  head  of  Ash  Creek,  an' 
there  ain't  much  theifc.  He  says  by  bearin'  a  little 
to  the  west  of  north  we'll  miss  the  breaks  of  Ash 
Creek  an'  strike  Walnut  about  the  mouth  of  a 
little  creek  putting  into  Walnut  from  the  south, 
where  there's  a  snug  place  for  a  well-sheltered 
winter  camp,  with  timber  on  the  north  an'  west; 
an'  I  think  that's  just  about  the  kind  of  a  layout 
we  want  to  find." 

"What  does  Dave  say  about  the  Kiowas?"  I 
asked. 

"He  says  they're  peaceable  so  far,  'but  always 
keep  your  eye  skinned,'  sez  he,  'whenever  Satank 
or  Satanta,  with  their  bands,  come  around.'  But 
of  course  we  knew  that." 

Jack  and  I  hurried  over  to  the  sutler's  store, 
where  we  were  very  affably  received  by  Weissel- 
baum, who  shook  us  warmly  by  the  hands  and 
now  had  no  difficulty  in  remembering  us.  We 
made  our  deposit,  took  his  receipt,  and  returned 
to  camp.  After  reporting  to  Tom  the  result  of 
our  trip,  Jack  remarked: 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Well,  I  don't  know  of  any  surer  winnin'  game 
than  a  post  sutler's  job.  It'll  beat  four  aces  an' 
a  six-shooter." 

"  Right  you  are,  my  lad,"  chipped  in  Tom.  "  It's 
a  sure  shot — dead  open  an'  shut.  Better'n  a  gold- 
mine, for  there's  little  risk  an*  small  loss  compared 
with  the  profits;  for  the  post  sutler  on  the  frontier 
just  rakes  in  the  money  of  officers,  soldiers,  citi- 
zens, Injuns,  an'  everybody.  Besides  havin'  a 
monopoly  of  all  trade  on  the  post  reservation,  he 
generally  has  the  inside  track  on  forage  contracts 
an'  the  like." 

"Do  you  mind  old  Rich,  the  sutler  at  Fort 
Leavenworth?"  asked  Jack,  "an'  the  dead  oodles 
of  money  he  rakes  in  all  the  time?  An'  he's  been 
sutler  there  so  long,  too,  he  must  be  as  rich  as  the 
Rothschilds.  A  queer  duck  is  old  Rich,"  he  con- 
tinued reflectively,  "or  'Kernel'  Rich,  I  should 
have  said,  for  when  you  call  him  'Kernel,'  'spe- 
cially if  you  salute  him  along  with  it,  it  pleases 
him  all  over  an'  raises  his  opinion  of  himself  about 
five  hundred  per  cent." 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom,  "I  remember  one  time 
when  several  of  us  soldiers  were  a-standing  around 
old  Rich's  store  door,  an'  among  the  lot  was  Bob 
Chambers,  of  F  Company.  You  know  Bob  al- 
ways had  his  cheek  with  him.  Well,  while  we 
were  a-talking,  Bill  Shutts  come  out  of  the  store 
a-grumbling  an'  a-cussing.  'What's  the  matter, 
Shutts?'  asked  Bob.  'Why,  I'm  expectin'  a  let- 

118 


WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

ter  from  home/  says  Bill,  'an'  when  I  asked  that 
old  galoot  if  there  was  a  letter  for  me,  the  old  fel- 
low wouldn't  look — never  even  asked  me  my  name 
—but  just  says,  crabbed  like,  says  he:  'No,  nothin' 
for  you/  'Now/  says  Bill,  Til  bet  two  dollars 
an'  sixty-five  cents  that  there's  a  letter  in  there 
right  now  for  William  Shutts,  Esquire,  from  Dres- 
den, O.,  but  I  can't  get  it.' 

"Why,  man,'  says  Bob  Chambers,  '  where' ve 
you  been  all  this  time  that  you  ain't  got  acquainted 
with  that  estimable  old  gentleman,  Kernel  Rich? 
You  ain't  onto  the  combination,  that's  all.  Now, 
I'll  bet  you  the  drinks  for  the  crowd,  down  at  old 
mother  Bangs's,  that  I'll  go  in  the  store  an*  ask 
the  kernel  for  a  letter,  an'  although  I  ain't  ex- 
pecting one,  an'  would  be  surprised  if  I  got  one, 
the  old  kernel'll  rush  flying  'round  behind  the 
counter  a-trying  to  find  me  a  letter.  Now,  lemme 
show  you  how  it's  done,'  sez  Bob,  a-buttonin'  up 
his  jacket  an'  a-cockin'  his  fatigue  cap  up  on 
three  hairs. 

"We  all  followed  him  into  the  store  to  see  the 
performance.  The  old  kernel  was  pacin'  the  floor. 
By  a  'left-front-into-line'  movement  Bob  swung 
himself  into  position  in  front  of  the  kernel,  halted, 
come  to  'attention,'  bringing  his  heels  together 
with  a  crack,  an'  raised  his  right  hand  to  the  peak 
of  his  cap  as  he  asked:  'Kernel,  is  there  any  letter 
in  the  office  for  me,  sir?' 

"Well,  say — you  ought  to  have  seen  the  smile 
119 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

that  come  over  old  Rich's  phiz  as  he  fell  all  over 
himself  getting  'round  behind  the  counter,  asking 
as  he  went:  *  What's  the  name,  my  man?'  'Rob- 
ert Chambers,  of  F  Company,  sir,'  says  Bob,  still 
standing  to  'attention.' 

"Well,  sir,  the  old  kernel  shuffled  those  letters 
over  two  or  three  times  a-tryin'  his  level  best  to 
dig  up  one  for  Chambers,  an'  seemed  awfully  sorry 
when  he  had  to  say,  as  he  put  them  back  in  the 
pigeonhole:  'No,  nothing  for  you  to-day,  Cham- 
bers.' An'  he  was  so  sorry  to  disappoint  Bob  that 
he  reached  over  on  the  shelf  an'  handed  out  a  plug 
of  tobacco,  as  he  added,  sort  of  regret  ful-like: 
'But  there's  some  of  the  best  navy  tobacco  you 
ever  smacked  your  lips  over.'  'No  doubt  of  it, 
kernel,  for  when  you  recommend  a  thing  it's  bound 
to  be  first  class,  but  unfortunately  I'm  dead  broke,' 
says  Chambers.  'Oh,  take  it  along,'  says  the  old 
man,  as  he  pushed  the  plug  across  the  counter; 
'you  can  hand  me  the  money  next  pay-day.'  An' 
he  was  so  pleased  with  Bob's  blarney  that  he 
never  even  chalked  it  down  to  him;  an'  I'm  dead 
sure  that  Chambers  didn't  remind  him  of  it  when 
pay-day  come,  for  Bob  wasn't  built  that  way. 

"As  we  started  out  of  the  store,  Bob  says  over 
his  shoulder  like  for  old  Rich  to  hear,  'Kernel 
Rich  is  one  of  the  finest  old  gentlemen  I  ever 
knew.' 

"When  we  got  outside  the  store  door  again,  Bill 
Shutts  remarked,  as  he  gazed  at  Chambers  in 

120 


WE  REACH  FORT  LARNED 

honest  admiration  'Well,  old  pard,  if  I  had  your 
cheek  I'd  never  work  another  lick/  'It's  all  done 
by  a  slight  turn  of  the  wrist,  as  the  magician  says/ 
said  Bob;  'anybody  can  do  it  that  knows  how. 
Now,  let  me  tell  you  how  to  get  that  letter  of 
yours.  Just  go  over  to  the  quarters  an'  wash  your 
face  an'  hands  for  a  disguise,  black  your  boots,  but- 
ton up  your  jacket,  brace  up,  an'  look  brave;  and 
then  go  back  to  the  store — by  that  time  the  old 
man's  forgot  you  ever  asked  for  a  letter — then  ex- 
ecute a  flank  movement  on  him,  like  I  did;  be 
sure  to  salute  an'  call  him  kernel,  an'  you'll  get  a 
letter  if  he  has  to  write  you  one.' 

"An'  by  following  Bob's  advice  Bill  got  his  let- 
ter; an'  it  tickled  him  so't  he  called  us  together, 
an'  we  went  down  to  old  mother  Bangs's,  an'  he 
set  up  the  drinks  on  it,  'cause  he  said  that  trick 
that  Bob  learnt  him  was  worth  a  whole  lot,  if  not 


more." 


121 


CHAPTER  XII 
OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 


morning  at  breakfast  I  said: 
How  was  it,  Tom,  that  when  we  were  buy- 
ing our  outfit  at  Leavenworth  we  forgot  to  get 
a  compass?  That  is  a  pretty  useful  thing  in  trav- 
elling across  the  prairie,  where  there  is  no  road  or 
trail  to  follow?" 

"Well,"  replied  Tom,  "it  would  be  handy  to 
have  a  compass,  but  we  haven't  got  one  and  so 
we'll  have  to  do  the  next  best  thing,  and  thank  the 
Lord  I  have  a  good  watch  to  run  our  course  by." 

"What!"  I  exclaimed.  "Do  you  mean  that  you 
can  tell  the  points  of  the  compass  by  a  watch?" 
And  Jack  chimed  in:  "I  never  heard  of  the  like." 

"If  you  live  long  enough,  young  fellows,  you 
may  find  out  that  there  are  some  other  things 
you  never  heard  of.  Look  here,  I'll  explain  to 
you  how  it's  done,"  and  Tom  pulled  his  big  sil- 
ver watch  out  of  his  pocket,  opened  it,  and  put 
it  on  the  table. 

"You  turn  the  watch  so  that  the  hour-hand 
points  to  the  sun;  then  measure  just  half-way  to 
the  figure  twelve  on  the  dial  in  the  shortest  direc- 
tion, and  that  will  be  south.  Of  course,  the  oppo- 

122 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

site  point  will  be  north,  and  you  can  tell  east  or 
west. 

"If  you  get  it  firmly  fixed  in  your  mind  that, 
with  the  hour-hand  of  a  watch  pointing  to  the 
sun,  half-way  between  that  and  the  figure  twelve 
in  the  shortest  direction  on  the  dial  is  south,  you 
can  always  get  the  points  of  the  compass  when 
the  sun  is  shining." 

"Whoever  taught  you  that  watch  trick,  Tom?" 
I  asked. 

"First  Lieutenant  James  E.  B.  Stuart,  late  of 
G  Company,  First  Cavalry,  and  now  an  officer  in 
the  rebel  army,  learnt  me  that  once  when  I  was 
out  on  a  scout  with  him  in  the  mountains  and  we 
got  lost,"  answered  Tom.  "It  was  cloudy  and  we 
wandered  about  in  every  direction  except  the  right 
one,  as  lost  men  will  do.  After  a  while  the  sun 
came  out  for  a  little  while  and  I  saw  Jeb  halt, 
take  out  his  watch,  and  look  at  the  sun.  Then  he 
said:  'Now,  I  have  got  it.  The  trail  is  off  in  this 
direction,'  pointing  with  his  right  hand,  while  he 
held  the  watch  in  the  left.  Then  he  called  to  me : 
'Come  here,  sergeant,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to 
tell  north  and  south  by  a  watch.  It  may  be  use- 
ful to  you  some  day/  And  then  he  explained  it 
to  me,  and  many's  the  time  it  has  been  useful." 

By  the  time  we  had  everything  packed  up 
after  breakfast  and  the  team  strung  out,  the 
sun  was  up  and  we  started  north. 

We  ran  a  fairly  straight  line,  bearing  a  little  to 
123 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

the  west,  to  the  head  of  Ash  Creek,  which  we 
found  here  to  be  only  a  prairie  hollow  destitute 
of  water  and  timber.  Before  reaching  Ash  Creek 
we  had  begun  to  see  plenty  of  buffalo  in  every 
direction  except  toward  Fort  Larned. 

On  reaching  the  high  prairie  north  of  Ash  Creek 
we  could  see  away  to  the  north  the  distant  line 
of  timber  that  marked  the  course  of  Walnut 
Creek.  A  heavy  body  of  timber  was  seen  right 
ahead,  and  in  line  with  our  course,  that  Tom 
rightly  conjectured  was  at  the  mouth  of  the -little 
creek  emptying  into  the  Walnut,  where  French 
Dave  had  told  him  we  would  find  a  suitable  loca- 
tion for  a  winter  camp.  Toward  this  we  directed 
our  course. 

It  was  but  little  past  noon  when  we  reached 
the  edge  of  the  timber  near  the  junction  of  the 
little  branch  and  Walnut  Creek,  and  we  found 
here  an  ideal  spot  for  our  purpose — a  snug  camp 
and  good  hunting  and  trapping  ground. 

"We'll  camp  here  for  the  night,"  said  Tom  as 
he  dismounted,  "an'  to-morrow  we'll  look  the 
neighborhood  over  thoroughly  an'  decide  where 
to  pitch  our  permanent  layout." 

As  we  had  found  no  water  on  the  road  we  had 
made  this  drive  from  Pawnee  Fork  without  our 
usual  halt  for  noon  and  decided  to  have  our  din- 
ner and  supper  in  one  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  After  turning  out  the  stock,  bringing 
wood  and  water,  and  pitching  the  tent,  while 

125 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Tom  was  preparing  the  meal,  Jack  and  I  sepa- 
rately rambled  off  to  do  a  little  exploring  of  our 
immediate  neighborhood.  In  doing  so  I  found  a 
prairie  ravine,  not  far  from  our  camp,  in  which 
there  was  considerable  standing  water  at  a  dis- 
tance of  about  three  hundred  yards  from  the  tim- 
ber on  Walnut  Creek.  I  wondered  at  this  water, 
but  on  following  the  ravine  down  to  the  creek  I 
discovered  a  beaver  dam  built  across  the  creek, 
in  which  a  number  of  the  dome-shaped  huts  were 
standing,  and  saw  other  evidences  of  the  presence 
of  a  populous  colony  of  these  industrious  animals. 
The  water  I  had  seen  up  the  ravine  was  back- 
water caused  by  the  dam. 

At  Tom's  call  of  "grub  pile"  I  hurried  back  to 
camp  to  acquaint  my  comrades  with  my  dis- 
covery, only  to  learn  that  Jack  had  found  the 
beaver  dam  before  I  had  and,  having  rushed  back 
to  the  wagon,  was  now  busy  getting  out  our  steel 
traps  preparatory  to  setting  them  for  beaver. 

As  we  sat  around  the  mess-chest  eating,  Tom, 
between  mouthfuls,  explained  his  ideas  about  the 
establishing  of  our  winter  camp. 

"This  big  timber  here  is  in  the  right  place  to 
shelter  us  from  the  northwest  winds.  We  must 
also  remember  that  we've  got  to  protect  ourselves 
and  stock  against  a  surprise  by  hostile  Injuns.  I 
ain't  looking  for  trouble  of  that  kind,  but  it's 
always  best  to  be  prepared  for  such  emergencies. 
So  I  think  it'll  be  best  to  move  out  to  the  bank 

126 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

of  that  ravine  Peck  spoke  about,  say  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  timber,  which  will  still 
furnish  us  good  protection  from  the  northwesters. 
In  case  of  hostilities  the  water  in  the  ravine  can't 
be  cut  off  from  us.  Into  the  banks  of  that  ravine 
we'll  dig  our  dugouts — one  for  ourselves,  on  one 
side,  and  a  stable  for  the  stock  on  the  other  side, 
opposite  and  facing  each  other.  We'll  cut  and 
split  some  slabs  in  the  timber  and  lay  a  sort  of 
a  floor  across  the  ravine,  for  a  gangway,  and  it'll 
be  as  handy  as  a  pocket  in  a  shirt. 

"Now,  Peck,  while  Jack  goes  to  set  his  traps 
for  beaver,  suppose  you  saddle  up  Black  Prince 
and  go  out  and  kill  a  buffalo  calf  or  yearling  and 
bring  in  a  quarter  or  so  of  fresh  meat.  And,  as 
there's  plenty  of  time  yet  before  night,  while 
you're  at  it  you  may  as  well  make  a  complete 
circuit  of  the  camp,  say  about  a  mile  or  two  out, 
and  see  if  there's  anybody  or  any  sign  of  anybody 
in  this  neighborhood  besides  ourselves." 

"Tom,"  I  said,  "I  believe  it  would  be  better 
for  me  to  go  out  and  kill  a  yearling  first  and  bring 
in  some  meat  and  then  take  a  ride  around  the 
country  afterward;  for  if  I  kill  the  yearling  first 
and  leave  the  carcass  till  I  make  the  circuit  of  the 
camp  the  wolves  will  get  away  with  the  meat 
before  I  get  back  to  it;  and  if  I  make  the  round 
first  before  killing  our  meat  I'll  be  scaring  all 
the  near  buffalo  away." 

" You're  right,"  replied  the  old  man;  "do  as 
127 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

you  say.  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  do  a  little 
thinking  of  your  own  once  in  a  while.'* 

"And  I  believe  I  can  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone/'  I  continued,  "by  taking  some  strychnine 
along  and  baiting  the  remains  of  the  yearling 
after  I  cut  off  the  hind  quarters,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing I'll  have  a  few  coyotes  to  skin  to  give  us  a 
start  in  business." 

"That's  a  good  idea,  too;  but  don't  fool  away 
too  much  time,  for  I  want  you  to  make  that  round 
of  the  neighborhood  before  night." 

As  I  got  our  package  of  strychnine  out  of  the 
wagon,  opened  it,  and  took  out  one  of  the  phials 
to  put  in  my  pocket,  Tom  suggested: 

"You'd  better  open  that  bottle  here  an'  put 
in  a  little  water  to  dissolve  the  crystals;  you'll 
find  it's  easier  to  handle  in  liquid  than  in  crystals, 
and  also  more  savin'." 

Tom's  suggestion  was  a  good  one  and  I  did  as 
he  advised.  Then  hanging  the  hatchet  and  field- 
glass  to  my  saddle,  I  mounted  and  rode  away. 

Crossing  the  creek  just  below  the  beaver  dam, 
where  Jack  was  already  looking  out  locations  for 
his  traps,  I  rode  through  the  timber  to  look  for 
the  most  convenient  band  of  buffalo,  and  espied 
one  that  suited  my  purpose  about  a  mile  down 
the  prairie  bottom,  strung  out  in  single  file  on  the 
trail,  coming  in  to  the  creek  for  water. 

Recrossing  the  creek  so  as  to  keep  out  of  their 
sight  behind  the  timber,  I  rode  down  to  a  point 

128 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

that  would  intercept  them  and  prepared  to  await 
my  game.  The  place  I  had  chosen  to  wait  for 
them  was  an  old  buffalo  crossing,  the  converging 
trails,  deeply  worn  in  the  banks  on  either  side, 
showing  that  it  was  much  used.  They  would  have 
to  pass  me  here,  and,  again  recrossing  the  creek 
to  the  north  side,  I  rode  down  into  the  timber, 
tied  my  horse  behind  some  bushes,  and  returned 
afoot  to  the  crossing,  being  careful  not  to  give  the 
buffalo  my  wind. 

Soon  they  passed  me,  went  on  down,  drank,  and 
climbed  the  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
As  the  young  cattle  filed  past  me  I  selected  a 
yearling  and,  as  he  came  opposite,  shot  him,  and 
he  dropped  dead  in  the  trail.  The  rest  gave  a 
jump  or  two  and  went  on.  I  cut  off  the  hind  quar- 
ters and  with  some  trouble  put  them  on  Prince. 

Then  stripping  back  the  skin  from  the  fore 
quarters,  I  applied  my  solution  of  strychnine,  a 
few  drops  here  and  there  over  the  meat  and  en- 
trails, and  left  them  for  wolf  bait. 

Having  left  my  meat  at  camp,  I  rode  away  on 
my  scout,  reaching  camp  again  about  sunset. 

Just  after  we  finished  supper  the  howling  of 
a  pack  of  coyotes — which  we  seldom  noticed — 
prompted  me  to  exclaim: 

"Make  the  most  of  your  time,  my  lads,  for  if 
you  happen  to  scent  that  bait  I  put  out  for  you 
I'll  be  skinning  some  of  you  in  the  morning." 

The  howling  and  barking  of  wolves  was  such 
129 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

familiar  music  to  us  that  it  seldom  provoked  re- 
mark, for  we  had  scarcely  passed  a  night  since 
entering  the  buffalo  range  that  we  had  not  been 
serenaded  by  the  shrill,  discordant  notes  of  the 
coyote,  varied  occasionally  by  the  deeper  bass  of 
the  big,  gray  buffalo  wolves,  or  "lobos,"  as  the 
Mexicans  call  them. 

Next  morning  Jack  and  I  hurried  through  the 
work  of  watering  and  changing  the  animals  to 
fresh  grass,  while  Tom  prepared  breakfast.  We 
were  impatient  to  be  off,  and  after  the  meal,  tak- 
ing our  rifles  in  addition  to  revolvers,  we  started 
out  to  our  respective  tasks,  Jack  afoot  and  I  on 
Black  Prince. 

As  I  approached  my  wolf  baits  I  disturbed  a 
couple  of  coyotes — probably  late  comers  that  had 
but  recently  found  the  carcass,  for  they  certainly 
gave  no  evidence  of  the  effects  of  strychnine  as 
they  loped  off  on  the  prairie  a  little  way  and  there 
sat  on  their  haunches  licking  their  chops  and 
watching  me  as  though  reluctant  to  leave  their 
feast. 

I  tied  Prince  a  few  rods  away  from  the  bait,  of 
which  but  little  remained,  while  I  walked  about 
through  the  tall  grass,  looking  up  the  dead  wolves, 
three  of  which  I  noticed  lying  by  the  bait  before 
dismounting.  On  looking  about  I  found  five  more, 
at  varying  distances  from  the  carcass,  none  of 
them  more  than  a  hundred  yards  away.  Some  of 
them  were  still  warm. 

130 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

I  put  down  the  rifle,  drew  my  knife,  and  went 
to  work.  Having  had  considerable  experience  in 
skinning  wolves,  I  was  quite  expert  at  it  and  soon 
had  the  eight  pelts  stripped  off  the  dead  coyotes 
and  rolled  up  together  ready  for  tying  on  behind 
my  saddle. 

The  process  of  skinning  was  simple.  I  turned 
the  wolf  on  his  back  and  with  the  point  of  my 
knife  split  the  skin  from  the  point  of  the  chin 
down  the  throat  and  belly  to  the  root  of  the  tail; 
then  split  the  inside  of  each  leg  from  the  foot  to 
an  intersection  of  the  first,  or  belly  cut;  then 
stripped  back  the  skin  from  belly,  legs,  and  sides. 
The  tail  was  then  slipped  off  the  bone  whole,  with- 
out splitting,  in  this  way:  strip  the  skin  of  the  tail 
away  from  the  bone  for  about  an  inch  at  the  root; 
then  slip  a  split  stick  over  the  bone,  take  an  end 
of  the  stick  in  each  hand,  clamping  the  bone 
tightly,  and  give  a  jerk  toward  the  end  of  the 
tail.  The  bone  slips  out  of  its  skin  as  if  it  were 
greased. 

When  it  came  to  tying  the  skins  on  behind  the 
saddle,  Prince  objected  very  strongly,  and  I  was 
compelled  to  blindfold  him  before  I  could  accom- 
plish the  job.  After  I  had  mounted,  Prince  was 
still  nervous,  but  by  coaxing  and  talking  kindly 
to  him  I  soon  got  him  reconciled  to  carrying  the 
burden. 

When  I  reached  camp  I  found  Jack  jubilating 
over  three  fine  beavers  which  he  had  carried  up 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

from  the  creek.  He  was  grumbling  because  he 
had  not  put  out  more  traps. 

"Time  enough,"  said  Tom  consolingly.  "We've 
now  found  out  that  there's  plenty  of  'em  there  and 
can  wait  awhile.  Their  fur'll  be  getting  heavier 
an'  better  all  the  time." 

He  and  Jack  were  finishing  skinning  the  third 
one  as  I  dismounted  and  threw  down  my  batch 
of  coyote  pelts. 

"How  many  did  you  get?"  asked  Jack. 

"Only  eight,"  I  replied.  "If  I'd  had  time  to 
have  killed  and  poisoned  three  or  four  buffalo  in 
different  directions  out  around  camp  I'd  'a'  got  as 
many  as  the  horse  could  carry." 

"Time  enough  for  the  wolves,  too,  by  and  by," 
said  Tom. 

"Now,  men,"  said  Tom  after  we  had  discussed 
beaver  and  how  to  catch  them,  "while  you  were 
out  I  went  over  to  the  ravine  and  found  a  good 
place  for  our  dugouts  and  measured  and  staked 
off  the  ground  where  we'll  dig  'em.  After  dinner 
we  can  move  camp  over  there  close  to  the  work. 
And  while  I'm  getting  the  grub  ready  you  two 
can  water  the  horses  and  mules  and  be  a-making 
a  lot  of  little  pins  to  peg  your  skins  down  to  dry." 

After  dinner  we  moved  camp  close  to  the  bank 
of  the  ravine,  where  Tom  had  marked  out  the 
ground  for  our  winter  quarters.  On  the  opposite 
bank  he  had  staked  out  a  site  for  a  larger  dugout 
for  a  stable.  The  ravine  here  was  narrow,  and 

132 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

by  a  good  jump  we  could  clear  the  water  that 
occupied  its  bottom.  On  top  of  the  banks  the 
ground  for  some  distance  around  was  smooth 
and  level,  bearing  no  other  vegetation  but  the 
short,  nutritious  buffalo-grass. 

Pitching  our  tent  in  a  convenient  place  for  our 
work,  we  turned  out  the  stock,  picketing  the  gray 
mare  and  Prince.  Tom  was  to  ride  the  "buck- 
skin" bronco  to  look  for  a  hay-field. 

Jack  and  I  soon  had  our  coyote  and  beaver  pelts 
stretched  and  pegged  down  on  a  smooth  piece  of 
ground. 

"I'll  try  to  get  back,"  said  Tom  as  he  mounted 
Vinegar,  "in  time  for  you  men  to  go  and  put  out 
your  baits  for  the  night;  and  in  the  meantime, 
while  you're  resting,  you  may  as  well  get  out  the 
pick  and  shovel  and  turn  yourselves  loose  on  them 
dugouts,  just  to  see  if  you've  forgot  how  to  work. 
You'd  better  begin  on  the  horses'  stable  and  we'll 
try  to  finish  that  up  first,  for  if  a  "norther"  should 
catch  us  the  stock'd  be  in  a  bad  fix  for  shelter, 
while  our  tent'd  shelter  us,  all  right." 

In  a  couple  of  hours  Tom  returned,  reporting 
that  he  had  found,  in  a  bend  of  the  creek  just 
below  us,  a  large  bottom  that  would  afford  us  all 
the  hay  we  would  want. 

"Now,  men,"  he  said  as  he  unsaddled  and 
turned  out  the  bronco,  "we've  got  lots  to  do 
that's  pressing  us,  and,  as  the  wolf  poisoning  and 
beaver  trapping  ain't  pressing  and  won't  suffer 

133 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

any  loss  by  waiting  a  few  days,  I've  been  thinking 
that  we'd  better  let  the  pelts  go  for  a  while  and 
put  in  all  our  time  at  haymaking  and  digging  till 
we  get  everything  made  snug  for  cold  weather." 

Tom's  suggestion  seemed  so  reasonable  that  we 
agreed  with  him  and  decided  to  let  the  pelts  alone 
for  a  while. 

Tom  got  his  scythe  out  of  the  wagon  and 
"hung"  it  and  then  went  down  to  the  timber  to 
make  a  couple  of  wooden  hay-forks.  When  he 
had  returned  from  the  timber  with  his  wooden 
forks  he  remarked  as  he  sat  down  and  began 
whittling  the  prongs  to  points  and  otherwise 
smoothing  them  up  with  his  knife: 

"While  I  was  at  it  I  cut  a  lot  of  poles  for  a  hay 
frame  to  put  on  top  of  the  wagon-box  to  haul 
hay  on;  and  I  also  cut  some  poles  to  lay  on  the 
ground  under  our  freight  when  we  unload  the 
wagon." 

Later  in  the  day  we  unloaded  the  wagon,  piling 
the  contents  on  the  poles  inside  the  sideboards, 
which  we  had  taken  off  together,  leaving  the 
bows  on  them.  After  the  goods  were  thus  piled 
up  the  wagon-sheet  was  stretched  over  the  bows 
and  securely  tied  down'*  and  the  load  was  thus 
protected  from  the  weather. 

Tired  and  very  hungry  after  our  hard  day's 
work,  we  devoured  our  supper  and,  after  agreeing 
to  devote  the  next  day  to  digging  and  haymaking, 
were  soon  sound  asleep. 

134 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

After  breakfast  next  morning  Tom  shouldered 
the  scythe  and  his  rifle  and  set  out  for  the  hay- 
field. 

When  we  had  cleared  away  the  breakfast 
dishes  Jack  chose  the  pick-and-shovel  work  and 
was  soon  making  the  dirt  fly  out  of  the  hole  on 
the  other  side  of  the  ravine,  while  I  set  to  making 
a  hay  frame  of  crossed  poles  on  top  of  the  wagon- 
box,  notched  and  lashed  together  and  held  in 
place  by  strips  of  rawhide  cut  from  the  skin  on 
the  yearling  buffalo  quarters.  Now  and  then 
on  the  still  morning  air,  although  about  a  mile 
away,  we  could  hear  the  "whick-whack"  as  Tom 
whetted  his  scythe. 

At  nine  o'clock  Jack  went  to  the  hay-field  to 
help  Tom,  while  I  put  on  the  dinner,  to  which  I 
called  them  by  flag  at  noon.  In  the  afternoon 
they  returned  to  their  haymaking,  and  by  eve- 
ning they  had  a  nice  lot  of  hay  in  cocks  which 
would  do  to  haul  and  stack  next  day.  After  fin- 
ishing the  hay  frame  I  worked  at  digging  in  the 
dugout. 

Buffalo  were  to  be  seen  on  the  prairie  all  about 
us,  and  now  and  then  a  few  antelope  made  their 
appearance,  but  we  were  too  busy  to  spare  the 
time  to  go  out  and  kill  any.  Flocks  of  water- 
fowl— wild  geese,  brants,  ducks,  and  sand-hill 
cranes — were  seen  and  heard  flying  over  and 
sometimes  alighted  in  the  pond  formed  by  the 
beaver  dam,  and  also  seemed  to  come  down  at  a 

135 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

point  several  miles  down  the  creek,  which  indi- 
cated that  there  was  a  body  of  water  there. 

In  the  evening  when  the  men  had  returned 
from  the  hay-field  we  all  stood  for  a  while  looking 
down  the  valley  and  remarking  on  the  appearance 
of  civilization  imparted  to  the  scene  by  the  distant 
flat  dotted  over  with  cocks  of  hay.  But  in  the 
morning  at  daylight,  on  again  looking  in  that  di- 
rection, we  were  filled  with  indignation  to  see  that 
during  the  night  a  herd  of  buffalo  had  preempted 
our  hay-field  and  had  trampled,  horned,  and  scat- 
tered all  the  nice  cocks  in  every  direction,  and 
were  now  bedded  on  the  ground,  probably  chewing 
their  cuds  in  total  indifference  to  our  rights  after 
almost  destroying  the  previous  day's  work  of  our 
haymakers. 

"I'll  make  wolf  bait  of  one  of  'em  for  spite,  so 
I  will,"  said  Jack  as  he  seized  a  rifle  and  started 
down  the  hollow  to  get  a  shot. 

"Don't  kill  more'n  one,  Jack,  just  enough  to 
scare  them  off,"  suggested  Tom  as  the  irate  Irish- 
man sneaked  off  down  the  ravine,  "for  we  don't 
want  our  hay  ground  littered  up  with  dead  buffalo 
and  dead  wolf  carcasses." 

For  some  minutes  Tom  and  I  stood  watching 
the  buffalo  to  see  what  the  Irishman  would  do  for 
them.  They  were  all  lying  down  in  apparent  per- 
fect contentment  except  one  large  bull.  We  kept 
our  eyes  on  the  big  bull  and  after  a  time  saw  the 
huge  beast  drop,  and  immediately  afterward  the 

136 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

report  of  the  rifle  reached  our  ears.  The  rest  of 
the  buffalo  jumped  to  their  feet  in  alarm  at  the 
sound  of  the  shot,  but,  instead  of  running  away, 
stood  staring  at  the  timber  from  whence  Jack  had 
fired;  and  had  he  desired  to  do  so  he  could  prob- 
ably have  remained  in  concealment  and  shot 
several  more,  for  the  buffalo  do  not  readily  take 
the  hint  of  danger  till  they  can  see  the  enemy. 
Presently  we  saw  the  herd  stampede,  and  at  the 
same  time  our  Irishman  made  his  appearance, 
running  out  of  the  timber  shouting  and  firing 
another  shot  over  them  to  give  them  a  good  scare. 

"Our  hay's  ruined  entirely/'  he  said  as  he  put 
away  his  rifle  and  sat  down  to  breakfast,  "scat- 
tered all  about  and  tramped  over.  Even  what  we 
left  in  the  windrows  is  all  horned  and  tossed  about. 
We  may  be  able  to  rake  up  some  of  it,  but  it'll 
be  hardly  worth  the  effort.  But  I  took  me  satis- 
faction out  of  that  big  fellow — I  got  a  good  broad- 
side shot  at  him  and  must  have  shot  him  through 
the  heart,  for  he  dropped  in  his  tracks.  Peck  had 
better  go  down  there  this  evening  and  put  some 
poison  on  the  carcass,  and  be  taking  a  few  wolf 
pelts,  too,  while  we're  a-haymaking." 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  "we'll  have  to  stand  these 
night-prowling  buffalo  off  some  way,  and  I  think 
the  best  way  will  be  for  Peck  to  mount  one  of  the 
horses  just  before  night  and  ride  'round  the  neigh- 
borhood and  drive  off  any  herds  that  seem  to  be 
heading  toward  our  hay-field.  I  wouldn't  kill 

137 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

any  more  of  them  at  present,  for  we  can't  spare 
the  time  to  do  much  wolf  skinning,  but  just  stam- 
pede them  and  stand  them  off  for  a  few  days  till 
we  get  our  hay  cut  and  hauled;  then  you  may  go 
for  them,  and  the  wolves,  too.  We  don't  often 
have  occasion  to  take  the  hide  off  a  buffalo,  but 
I've  been  thinking  it  would  be  a  good  scheme  to 
skin  a  few  of  the  first  ones  we  kill  till  we  get  hides 
enough  to  lay  over  the  timbers  on  top  of  our  dug- 
outs before  we  throw  the  dirt  on,  to  keep  the  fine 
dirt  from  sifting  down  on  the  inside;  so,  Peck, 
you  may  as  well  take  the  hide  off  this  one  and 
bring  it  up  to  camp  when  you  go  down  there  to 
poison  the  meat  for  wolf  bait. 

"While  Jack  and  I  are  mowing  to-day  you  can 
look  out  a  suitable  place  along  up  the  ravine  here 
above  camp  where  we  can  make  a  crossing,  and 
dig  down  the  banks  a  little,  throwing  the  dirt  into 
the  hollow  so's  we  can  cross  the  wagon  over;  and 
while  we're  hauling  hay  we'll  just  leave  the  wagon 
over  on  the  other  side  of  the  draw.  We'll  stack 
the  hay,  as  we  haul  it,  on  the  bank,  close  up  to 
the  stable  so's  it'll  be  handy. 

"And,  mind  you,  that  at  no  time  and  under  no 
circumstances  must  the  camp  guard  leave  camp." 

"Have  you  seen  any  fresh  signs,  Tom,  that 
make  you  think  there's  Indians  about?"  I  asked. 

"Not  a  thing,  but  I  want  to  keep  you  'minded 
with  the  idea  that  in  this  country  'eternal  vigi- 
lance is  the  price  of  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit 

138 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

of  happiness/  as  the  Bible  says.  We  know  how 
tricky  Injuns  are,  and,  although  we've  seen  no 
fresh  signs,  a  prowling  party  is  likely  to  drop  onto 
us  any  time;  and  just  think  what  a  fix  we'd  be  in 
if  they  should  happen  to  get  into  our  camp  and  all 
hands  away.  How  completely  they'd  have  the 
drop  on  us!  I'm  not  scared  of  them,  nor  trying 
to  scare  you,  but  we've  got  to  keep  our  eyes 
peeled  and  be  prepared  all  the  time." 

"All  right,"  I  replied  with  an  air  of  more  con- 
fidence than  I  really  felt,  "I  guess  Found  and  I 
will  be  able  to  take  care  of  camp." 

"Of  course,"  continued  Tom  reassuringly,  "all 
Injuns  ain't  hostile,  but  we've  got  to  keep  on  the 
safe  side;  and  if  a  party  of  them  approaches  our 
camp  at  any  time,  even  if  they  profess  to  be 
friendly,  we  must  stand  them  off  and  never  allow 
more  than  a  few — just  what  we  feel  sure  we  can 
handle — to  come  into  camp  at  a  time;  and  even 
then,  always  keep  your  eyes  on  them  and  your 
arms  and  cartridges  handy." 

Leaving  me  with  these  cheerful  subjects  for 
thought,  the  two  men  proceeded  to  their  work. 

After  they  left  I  moved  our  horses  and  mules 
across  the  ravine  where  the  dog  and  I  could  guard 
them  on  one  side,  while  on  the  other  the  two  hay- 
makers would  be  some  protection.  During  the 
forenoon  I  worked  at  the  banks  of  the  gulch,  a 
little  above  our  tent,  to  make  a  crossing  for  the 
wagon. 

140 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

In  searching  for  the  place  for  a  crossing  for  the 
wagon  I  discovered  a  little  spring  of  water  trick- 
ling out  of  the  bank  a  few  steps  above  our  dug- 
outs. It  was  only  a  weak  vein,  but  by  digging  a 
pit  under  it,  in  which  we  planted  an  empty  barrel, 
we  made  a  reservoir  that  furnished  us  an  abun- 
dance of  good  water. 

The  discovery  and  improvement  of  this  little 
spring  made  our  camp  an  ideal  one.  At  first  we 
had  expected  to  use  backwater  from  the  beaver 
dam,  but  we  soon  realized  that  the  trash  from  our 
camp  might  render  this  water  unfit  for  drinking 
and  cooking;  and  but  for  finding  the  spring  we 
should  have  been  obliged  to  carry  water  from  the 
creek,  which  would  have  been  laborious  and  in- 
convenient. 

When  an  occasional  rain  or  melting  snow  flushed 
out  the  trash  in  the  ravine  we  could  use  that  water 
for  our  stock  for  a  few  days,  but  at  other  times 
we  watered  them  at  the  creek. 

I  felt  more  confidence  in  the  protection  afforded 
by  our  shepherd  dog  than  in  all  the  measures  we 
were  taking  for  the  safety  of  our  outfit.  With  the 
natural  instinct  of  his  breed,  Found  spent  most 
of  his  time  out  with  the  stock,  always  selecting  a 
position  on  some  elevation  between  our  animals 
and  camp  where  he  could  see  all  that  was  going 
on  in  our  neighborhood;  and  I  was  satisfied  that 
neither  friend  nor  foe  could  approach  without  his 
giving  notice. 

141 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

At  noon  when  the  men  came  in  to  dinner  they 
reported  that  they  had  raked  up  a  good  load  of  the 
hay  that  had  been  scattered,  and  in  the  afternoon 
they  took  the  mules  and  wagon  with  them  and 
Tom  brought  the  first  load  to  camp  on  returning 
in  the  evening,  while  Jack  remained  and  began 
skinning  the  dead  buffalo.  When  I  joined  him 
we  soon  stripped  the  hide  off,  applied  the  strych- 
nine to  the  carcass,  and  left  it  for  the  wolves. 

"First  come,  first  served,  will  be  the  rule  here 
to-night,"  I  remarked  as  we  started  to  camp. 
"The  first  wolves  to  reach  the  bait  will  probably 
get  laid  out  before  they  have  time  to  get  half 
a  feed,  while  those  that  come  later  may  not  get 
strychnine  enough  to  give  them  a  bellyache." 

"How  many  do  you  expect  to  find  in  the  morn- 
ing?" asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  about  eight  or  ten  for  the  first  night  will 
be  a  pretty  fair  haul;  but  by  to-morrow  night  I'll 
poison  the  bait  again,  and  by  that  time  it  ought 
to  catch  more — maybe  as  many  as  twelve  or  fif- 
teen— for  the  scent  of  the  dead  buffalo  will  then 
attract  them  from  a  greater  distance." 

I  did  even  better  than  I  anticipated,  for  next 
morning  I  found  thirteen  dead  wolves  lying  around 
the  bait  awaiting  my  skinning  knife.  Jack  re- 
mained in  camp  until  I  had  skinned  the  wolves, 
brought  in  the  pelts  and  pegged  them  down  to 
dry,  after  which  he  took  the  team  and  went  out 
to  the  hay-field  where  Tom  was  mowing. 

142 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

The  dead  buffalo  only  lasted  for  three  nights' 
baiting,  by  which  time  I  had  taken  nearly  fifty 
pelts,  some  big  gray  wolves  but  mostly  coyotes  and 
little  yellow  foxes.  We  killed  no  more  buffalo  for 
wolf  baits  until  the  more  important  work  was  done. 

Our  haymakers  were  now  making  a  good  show- 
ing, bringing  in  and  stacking  a  load  at  noon  and 
another  at  night,  and  in  a  week  we  had  stacked 
as  much  hay  as  we  should  need. 

While  doing  duty  as  camp  guard,  I  had  put  in 
all  my  spare  time  throwing  dirt  out  of  our  stable 
dugout  and  had  the  excavation  about  completed. 
While  Jack  and  I  were  doing  a  little  trimming  up 
inside  and  cutting  a  doorway  through  the  wall  of 
dirt  on  the  side  next  the  ravine,  Tom  had  gone 
into  the  timber  and  cut  and  split  a  lot  of  poles 
and  slabs  to  support  the  roof  of  dirt. 

First  putting  a  small  log,  twenty-four  feet  long, 
on  the  brink  of  each  side  of  the  excavation,  to 
serve  as  "plates"  to  rest  the  roof  timbers  on,  we 
then  laid  twelve-foot  slabs  and  poles  across  from 
side  to  side,  as  closely  as  they  would  fit,  covering 
the  larger  crevices  with  brush. 

"Now,"  said  Tom,  stepping'  back  to  take  an 
observation  of  our  work  when  we  had  reached 
this  point,  "ef  we  had  buffalo-skins  enough  to 
cover  it,  to  keep  the  fine  dirt  from  sifting  through, 
we'd  be  ready  to  go  to  throwing  the  dirt  on  an' 
soon  have  the  horses'  stable  finished  up  so's  we 
could  go  to  work  on  our  own  quarters." 

H3 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Well,  we  can  soon  get  them,"  I  replied.  "In 
the  morning  Jack  and  I  will  go  out  and  kill  a  few 
buffalo  and  bring  in  the  hides,  and  by  to-morrow 
night  we  can  have  this  dugout  about  completed." 

Next  morning  the  Irishman  and  I  saddled  up 
and  started  out  to  secure  the  hides.  We  could 
have  killed  what  we  needed  out  of  the  first  band 
we  struck,  but,  as  I  wished  to  use  the  carcasses 
for  wolf  baits,  we  decided  to  distribute  the  baits 
at  different  points  about  the  camp  and  not  less 
than  a  mile  from  it. 

We  killed  and  skinned  six  bulls,  making  a  com- 
plete circuit  of  our  camp,  and  by  noon  had  re- 
turned with  the  hides. 

After  dinner  we  spread  enough  of  them  over  the 
roof  timbers  to  completely  cover  them  and  then 
set  to  work  shovelling  on  the  dirt,  making  quite 
a  mound  of  it.  This  finished  our  stable,  except 
for  the  mangers  and  feed-boxes  inside  and  making 
a  door  of  some  kind  to  close  up  the  opening  we 
had  cut  through  the  bank.  This  last  Tom  made 
next  day  by  a  frame  of  poles  on  which  was  tacked 
a  buffalo-hide.  This  door  was  hung  on  rawhide 
hinges. 

"Now,  men,"  said  the  old  man  as  we  topped 
out  the  dirt  roof  and  smoothed  it  up,  "we've  a 
snug  shelter  here  for  our  stock  in  case  of  need, 
but,  of  course,  we  won't  put  'em  into  it  till  we 
have  to.  As  long  as  it's  fair  they'll  do  better  out 
on  the  buffalo-grass,  as  they've  been  doing.  Our 

144 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

stable,  hay,  an'  grain  will  be  our  reserve  for 
stormy  weather  or  when  the  grass  is  covered  with 
snow.  We  must  still  work  hard  till  we  get  our 
own  winter  quarters  finished  up,  an*  then  let  the 
weather  turn  loose — we'll  be  ready  for  it." 

Toward  evening  I  made  the  round  of  the  buffalo 
carcasses  and  poisoned  them  for  the  night's  catch 
of  wolves. 

As  we  gathered  around  the  supper  table  in  the 
evening  I  suggested : 

"As  I  expect  a  big  job  of  wolf  skinning  in  the 
morning,  I  guess  I'll  need  help,  and  maybe  I  had 
as  well  take  Jack  along  with  me  and  be  breaking 
him  in." 

"All  right,"  replied  the  Irishman,  "if  Tom  says 
so,  I'm  your  huckleberry.  How  many  skins  are 
you  going  to  get  this  haul?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  but,  putting  it  low,  I  ought 
to  find  at  least  five  or  six  around  each  bait,  and 
maybe  twice  that  many,  so  you  see,  skinning, 
bringing  in,  and  pegging  down  thirty-five  or  forty 
wolf  pelts  is  no  small  job." 

"Well,  it'll  take  the  two  of  you  the  whole  fore- 
noon," said  Tom  ruefully,  "but  the  wolfskins 
must  be  taken  care  of — that's  what  we're  here  for. 
Still,  I'm  mighty  anxious  to  get  the  other  dugout 
done,  so  I  guess  you'd  better  not  kill  any  more 
buffalo  for  bait  unless  we  need  some  more  of  their 
skins  to  cover  our  dugout.  These  six  will  keep 
you  a-poisoning  and  a-skinning  for  at  least  three 

145 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

or  four  days  to  come,  and  all  of  that  time  there'll 
not  be  much  done  on  the  dugout,  for  part  of  my 
time'll  be  taken  up  doing  the  cooking  an'  camp 
work.  But  go  ahead  with  your  wolf  killing,  for 
every  pelt  cured  is  as  good  as  six  bits  or  a  dollar 
in  pocket  at  the  least  calculation." 

After  an  early  breakfast  next  morning  Jack 
and  I  mounted  and  started.  We  found  fully  as 
big  a  job  as  I  had  anticipated,  for  the  night's 
catch  yielded  us  over  fifty  wolfskins.  It  took  us 
most  of  the  morning,  brisk  work,  to  get  them  all 
gathered  in,  and  our  horses  were  so  well  loaded 
with  the  hides  that  we  had  to  walk  and  lead  them 
back  to  camp.  Jack  proved  an  apt  pupil  at  wolf 
skinning  and  soon  could  snatch  a  hide  off  as 
quickly  as  I. 

When  we  reached  camp  with  our  loads  we  found 
that  Tom,  with  his  usual  foresight,  had  whittled 
us  out  a  good  lot  of  pegs,  which  greatly  assisted 
us  in  disposing  of  the  pelts,  and  we  soon  had  them 
stretched  and  pegged  down,  flesh  side  up,  on  a 
smooth  piece  of  ground  near  the  tent  where  we 
had  already  started  a  drying  yard. 

Each  evening,  while  there  was  anything  left 
for  a  wolf  bait  of  the  buffalo  we  had  recently 
killed,  I  made  the  round,  poisoning  the  flesh,  and 
next  morning  Jack  and  I  visited  the  baits,  skinned 
the  dead  wolves,  brought  in  the  pelts,  and  pegged 
them  down.  This  generally  "spoiled"  the  fore- 
noon, while  the  afternoon  would  be  spent  in  dig- 

146 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

ging  our  dugout;  but,  as  our  winter  quarters  were 
to  be  only  about  half  the  size  of  the  stable,  we 
soon  had  the  new  excavation  finished. 

After  putting  the  roof  timbers  on  our  dugout 
we  placed  the  stove  in  its  corner,  put  on  the  extra 
joints  of  pipe  provided  for  the  purpose,  extending 
it  up  through  an  opening  in  the  slabs,  and  plas- 
tered a  lot  of  mud  around  the  pipe  to  prevent  it 
setting  fire  to  the  timbers.  Then  spreading  buf- 
falo-hides over  the  timbers,  we  heaped  up  the 
earth  on  it,  as  we  had  on  the  other  one,  and  our 
winter  residence  was  ready  for  its  furniture  and 
tenants. 

Our  ten-foot-square  room  was  rather  cramped 
quarters  to  hold  us  and  all  that  we  had  designed 
to  put  in  it,  and  we  found  it  necessary  still  to  use 
the  tent  to  store  such  of  our  plunder  as  would  not 
need  protection  from  the  cold. 

Without  giving  any  reason,  Tom  insisted  on 
moving  the  tent  up  as  close  against  the  rear  side 
of  the  pile  of  dirt  that  constituted  the  roof  of  our 
dugout  as  we  could  get  it.  I  suspected  then  that 
this  was  one  of  his  strategic  plans,  and  a  few  days 
later  my  surmise  was  verified  when  we  found  him 
at  work  digging  a  tunnel  from  the  dugout  room 
to  the  centre  of  the  tent.  By  this  underground 
connection  we  could  go  from  one  place  to  the  other 
without  being  exposed  and,  if  necessary,  could 
use  the  tent  as  a  lookout  station. 

On  the  evening  that  we  moved  into  the  dugout, 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

as  we  sat  down  to  our  first  meal  in  winter  quar- 
ters, Tom  remarked  with  evident  satisfaction: 

"Now,  men,  we've  got  things  in  shape  so 
that  we're  ready  for  a  cold  snap,  snow-storm,  or 
norther  ef  one  chances  to  come  this  way.  From 
now  on  we  can  take  it  easier.  There  will  be  a  lot 
of  trimming  an'  tidying  up  to  do  about  camp  yet 
for  several  days,  an'  while  I'm  putting  on  the  fin- 
ishing touches  you  two  can  light  out  and  go  to 
poisoning  wolves  an*  trapping  beaver  or  hunting 
any  other  game  that  you  can  find.  You  ought  to 
explore  the  neighborhood  for  ten  or  twelve  miles 
around  in  every  direction.  It's  about  time,  too, 
for  one  of  us  to  take  a  trip  over  to  the  fort  to 
get  our  mail  an'  find  out  what's  going  on  in  the 
world." 

"Well,  Tom,  what  are  the  orders  for  to-mor- 
row?" said  I. 

"Why,  you  an'  Jack  had  better  go  out  an*  kill  a 
few  more  buffalo  for  baits  an'  Jack  can  set  his 
traps  for  some  more  beaver.  You  might  both  of 
you  ride  up  or  down  the  creek  for  a  few  miles  now 
and  then,  to  learn  the  country  like  an'  maybe 
pick  up  an  antelope  or  some  wild  geese  or  ducks, 
to  make  a  change  in  our  bill  of  fare.  An'  about 
to-morrow  or  next  day  or  the  day  after,  when  I 
get  things  pretty  well  shaped  up  about  camp,  I 
think  I'll  ride  over  to  the  fort  an'  get  our  mail 
an'  see  what's  going  on  in  the  United  States." 

"In  a  little  while,"  remarked  Jack,  "if  our  luck 
148 


OUR  CAMP  ON  WALNUT  CREEK 

holds  out,  we'll  be  gettin'  a  big  lot  of  wolfskins 
dried.  How  are  we  going  to  stow  'em  away  to 
take  care  of  'em  till  spring?" 

"Well,"  replied  Tom,  "in  a  few  days  I'll  rig  up 
a  lever  to  press  'em  with,  an'  then  as  fast  as  we 
get  a  hundred  or  so  dried  we'll  put  fifty  of  'em  in 
a  pile,  press  'em  down  tight,  an'  tie  'em  in  bales 
with  rawhide  strips  an'  then  store  the  bales  away 
in  the  tent." 


149 


CHAPTER  XIII 
KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 

TjMDR  the  next  few  days  we  were  all  very  busy. 
•*•  Tom  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  on 
our  quarters,  while  Jack  and  I  were  doing  the 
trapping,  baiting,  and  skinning.  I  assisted  Jack 
in  trapping  beaver  and  he  helped  me  in  killing 
buffalo  and  taking  care  of  the  wolfskins. 

While  working  at  these  tasks  we  were  riding  the 
surrounding  country,  east  and  west,  up  and  down 
the  creek,  and  north  and  south  in  open  prairie. 
At  a  distance  of  about  three  miles  down  the  creek, 
on  the  north  side,  we  found  a  series  of  connected 
sloughs  leading  off  from  the  creek  out  into  the 
prairie  bottom,  through  which  a  string  of  little 
ponds  ran  for  about  a  mile  and  then  united  with 
the  main  stream  again. 

These  sloughs,  bordered  by  a  rank  growth  of 
rushes,  made  excellent  feeding-grounds  for  water- 
fowl. It  was  easy  here  to  procure  all  the  ducks, 
geese,  brant,  and  sand-hill  cranes  that  we  wished. 
On  the  prairie  were  plenty  of  antelope,  with  now 
and  then  a  few  deer  and  elk  in  the  timber  along  the- 
creek.  Everywhere  were  seen  bleached  and  bleach- 
ing buffalo  bones — too  common  a  feature  of  the 
landscape  to  attract  more  than  a  passing  glance. 


KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 

One  day  Jack  and  I  had  been  killing  some  buf- 
falo for  wolf  baits  on  the  high  prairie  south  of  our 
camp.  We  had  become  separated  by  a  couple  of 
miles;  each  had  killed  his  buffalo,  and  I  had  poi- 
soned mine  and  started  to  Jack,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  me  to  prepare  his  buffalo  for  the  wolves 
also.  As  I  rode  through  a  scattered  lot  of  bones, 
where  several  animals  seemed  to  have  been  killed 
together,  I  noticed  among  the  lot  a  human  skull. 
Looking  more  closely,  I  saw  other  human  bones 
of  the  same  skeleton  and  those  of  a  horse,  the 
hoofs  of  which,  with  the  shoes  still  on,  showed 
that  it  had  not  been  an  Indian's  horse.  Bones  of 
wolves  lay  among  the  others. 

Here,  then,  seemed  the  evidences  of  a  past 
tragedy,  and,  wishing  to  have  Jack  come  and  help 
to  read  the  signs,  I  rode  out  clear  of  this  bone- 
yard,  fired  a  shot  from  my  rifle  to  attract  his  at- 
tention, and  then  began  riding  around  in  a  circle— 
the  usual  signal  in  such  cases — to  call  him  to  me. 

He  understood  and  galloped  toward  me.  While 
he  was  coming  I  walked  about  among  the  relics, 
trying  to  solve  the  mystery  of  which  these  bones 
were  the  record.  They  had  been  somewhat  scat- 
tered, by  the  wolves  that  had  picked  them,  but 
their  general  lay  indicated  pretty  clearly  the  rela- 
tive situation  of  the  man  and  animals  at  the  time 
of  their  death.  The  bones  had  probably  not  been 
there  more  than  about  a  year. 

Although  somewhat  mixed  and  scattered,  the 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

general  lay  of  the  bones  seemed  to  show  the  buffalo 
on  one  side,  the  horse  on  the  other,  and  the  man 
between  them.  The  man's  skull  had  a  small  bul- 
let hole  through  it  at  the  temples,  which  suffi- 
ciently indicated  the  immediate  cause  of  his  death; 
but  whether  this  shot  had  come  from  an  enemy 
or  had  been  self-inflicted  could  not  be  determined 
by  the  signs. 

While  thus  trying  to  interpret  the  indications, 
Jack  reached  me. 

"Here,  Jack,  has  been  a  man,  horse,  and  buffalo 
killed,"  I  said  as  he  halted,  "and  from  the  looks 
of  things,  I  think  it  happened  about  a  year  ago. 
Help  me  to  read  the  signs.  The  horse  was  a 
white  man's  horse,  for  the  hoofs,  you  see,  have 
shoes  on." 

"That  ain't  sure  proof,"  replied  he,  "for  the 
horse  might  have  been  lately  captured  or  stolen 
from  the  whites.  But,  hold  on!"  he  exclaimed 
after  a  moment's  survey  of  the  bone-yard,  as, 
stooping,'  he  picked  up  what  proved  to  be  the 
lower  jaw-bone  of  the  human  skull.  "This  set- 
tles it.  This  says  he  was  a  white  man,  for  here's 
a  gold  plug  in  one  tooth." 

"Well,  that  settles  one  important  point,"  I  re- 
plied. "But  how  did  the  buffalo,  man,  and  horse 
happen  to  die  so  close  together?" 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  Jack,  still  walking  about 
scrutinizing  the  relics,  "it  could  have  happened  in 
only  one  or  two  ways.  Either  the  man  and  his 

152 


KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 

horse  have  been  killed  by  a  wounded  bull,  an*  the 
bull  then  fell  an'  died  with  'em,  or — which  is 
more  likely — the  man  killed  the  buffalo  an',  while 
busy  cutting  some  of  the  meat  out,  was  corralled 
by  Injuns.  How  do  you  read  it?" 

"The  signs  disprove  your  first  proposition, 
Jack,"  I  answered,  "but  confirm  the  second.  If 
it  had  been  an  accident  from  a  wounded  bull  there 
would  be  some  such  remains  as  the  metallic  parts 
of  his  gun  or  pistol,  or  buttons,  spurs,  buckles,  and 
so  forth;  but  you  see  there's  not  a  thing  of  that 
kind  to  be  seen.  If  he  was  killed  by  Indians  they 
would  have  carried  off  all  his  and  his  horse's 
equipments;  and  I  think  that  is  what  hap- 
pened." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  admitted  Jack.  "It 
must  have  been  the  work  of  Injuns." 

Just  then  he  stopped  and  picked  up  an  old 
bleached  buffalo  shoulder-blade  that  seemed  to 
have  been  carefully  placed,  flat  side  down,  on  top 
of  the  weather-whitened  skull  of  the  older  set  of 
bones.  "Halloo!  what's  this?"  he  exclaimed  ex- 
citedly as  he  began  scanning  the  bone.  "Here 
it  is,  Peck.  This'll  tell  us  something  about  it  if 
we  can  only  make  out  the  writing.  See  if  you  can 
make  it  out." 

On  the  flat  side  of  the  shoulder-blade  was  dimly 
pencilled  a  partially  obliterated  and  nervously 
written  inscription.  It  was  without  date,  and 
yet  enough  of  the  wording  was  legible  to  enable 

153 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

us  to  make  out  the  following  message  from  the 
dead  man: 


Cut  off  and  surrounded  by  Injens  Woonded — lay- 
ing between  ded  hors  and  ded  buffalow  standing  them 
off.  Catriges  nearly  all  gon  God  hep  me 

John  S.  Kel        Gran        Mo. 

The  name  seemed  to  be  something  like  Kelton, 
Kelsey,  or  Kelley,  and  several  of  the  other  words 
were  so  imperfectly  written  that  I  had  to  guess 
them  out.  We  guessed  the  name  of  the  town  to 
be  Granby,  Missouri. 

As  I  finished  rendering  my  interpretation  of  the 
inscription  Jack  said,  as  he  devoutly  crossed  him- 
self: 

"God  help  me!'  the  poor  fellow  said,  an*  no 
doubt  the  Good  Man  took  pity  on  him  an*  let 

154 


"  It  must  have  been  the  work  of  Injuns." 


KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 

him  in  at  the  gate,  for  the  good  Book  do  tell  us 
that  he  never  was  known  to  go  back  on  such  a 
prayer  as  that.  Well,  he  must  have  hurted  some 
of  them  Injuns  in  the  row.  It  would  be  a  satis- 
faction to  find  some  sign  that  he  got  away  with 
some  of  'em;  so  let's  mount  an*  take  a  circuit 
'round  over  the  prairie  for  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  out  an'  see  if  we  can  find  anything." 

We  did  so  and  were  rewarded  by  finding  the 
bones  of  two  small  horses,  probably  Indian  ponies 
that  the  man  had  shot  in  defending  his  position. 

"That's  some  satisfaction,"  said  Jack  as  we  re- 
turned, "for  it's  more'n  likely  that  he  killed  some 
of  the  Injuns,  too.  Well,  what'll  we  do  with  these 
things?"  pointing  to  the  skull,  jaw-bone,  and  buf- 
falo shoulder-blade. 

"I  was  thinking  of  taking  them  back  to  camp 
with  us,"  I  replied,  "to  see  what  Tom  will  say." 

"Just  what  I  was  thinkin',"  said  Jack,  dis- 
mou.nting  and  preparing  to  tie  the  skull  and  jaw- 
bone to  his  saddle.  "I'll  carry  these  an'  you  can 
carry  the  shoulder-blade.  You'd  better  carry  it 
in  your  hand,  an'  be  careful  of  it  so's  not  to  rub 
out  the  writin'  any  more,  for  it's  hard  enough  to 
make  out  as  it  is." 

Of  course  Tom  was  interested  in  the  memorials 
we  brought  and  asked  us  many  questions  about 
the  signs  we  had  found. 

After  giving  him  time  to  study  the  problem  out, 
I  asked: 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Well,  Tom,  what  do  you  make  of  it?" 

"It's  my  guess,"  he  replied  deliberately,  holding 
the  skull  up  before  him  as  though  reading  its  his- 
tory, "that  this  man  was  a  wolf  hunter,  like  our- 
selves, an*  if  so  there'll  be  more  of  this  affair  to 
be  discovered  hereabouts.  He  had  killed  that  buf- 
falo for  wolf  bait,  'cause  if  he'd  been  after  meat 
he'd  V  killed  a  younger  one,  or  a  cow,  for  you 
say  the  bones  showed  it  was  a  big  bull.  A  man 
wouldn't  be  so  far  away  from  the  Santa  Fe  road 
huntin'  buffalo  without  he  had  a  camp  in  this 
neighborhood.  If  he  had  a  camp  he's  had  a 
pardner  or  two,  an'  what  must  have  become  of 
them?  Their  camp  must  have  been  somewheres 
along  the  creek,  not  far  from  here.  Have  either 
of  you  seen  any  signs  of  such  a  layout  in  your 
rambles  up  or  down  the  creek?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "but,  then,  neither  of  us  has 
been  more  than  about  three  miles  up  or  down." 

"Well,  after  this,  when  you  go  up  or  down  the 
creek  make  your  trips  extend  a  little  farther  each 
time  till  you've  covered  at  least  ten  or  twelve 
miles  each  way;  an'  by  keeping  your  eyes  peeled 
you  may  be  able  to  find  some  remains  of  a  hunt- 
er's camp  or  some  sign  that'll  give  us  something 
more  about  this.  This  man  came  to  his  death 
about  as  you  an'  Jack  guessed  it;  that  is,  while 
getting  ready  to  poison  his  buffalo  for  wolf  bait 
the  Injuns  came  onto  him  an'  surrounded  him." 

"I  think,"  I  interrupted  him  to  say,  "that  he 

156 


KILLED  BY  THE  INDIANS 

had  probably  already  poisoned  the  buffalo,  for  I 
noticed  the  bones  of  several  wolves  there,  which 
would  go  to  show  that  the  wolves  had  died  from 
eating  the  poisoned  meat  of  the  buffalo/* 

"Well,  yes — likely,"  returned  Tom.  "He  put 
up  a  good  fight,  though,  from  what  you  say,  an' 
seems  to  have  been  a  man  that's  had  some  pre- 
vious experience  in  that  line.  Did  you  notice 
any  bullet  hole  in  his  horse's  skull?" 

"No.  I  looked  for  that,  but  there  was  no  sign 
that  the  horse  had  been  shot  in  the  head;  but  he 
might  have  been  shot  elsewhere." 

"Tain't  likely,"  replied  the  old  man  thought- 
fully, "for  you  say  the  horse's  bones  show  that 
he  died  close  to  the  buffalo,  an'  the  man  in  be- 
tween 'em,  as  his  bones  show  an'  the  writing  on 
the  shoulder-blade  says.  He  must  have  cut  its 
throat.  How  far  off  from  the  man's  bones  was 
the  bones  of  the  Injun  ponies  that  you  found?" 

"About  three  hundred  yards,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  he  must  have  had  a  Sharp's  rifle,*  for 
a  muzzle-loader  wouldn't  kill  that  far.  But  he's 

*  There  were  no  metallic  cartridge  shells  in  use  in  those  days,  the 
cartridges  for  Sharp's  rifles  and  all  firearms  being  put  up  in  paper. 
The  Sharp's  rifle  carbine,  which  was  one  of  the  earliest  breech-loaders 
brought  into  use  on  the  frontier,  had  been  adopted  by  the  govern- 
ment for  the  cavalry  service  and  was  also  a  favorite  buffalo  gun 
among  frontiersmen  generally.  Their  extreme  effective  range  was 
eight  hundred  yards,  the  longest-range  guns  then  in  use  on  the  plains. 
The  Colt's  navy  pistols  we  used  then  would  shoot  with  the  force 
and  accuracy  of  a  rifle  for  about  three  hundred  yards.  I  remember 
seeing  a  sergeant  in  the  Second  Dragoons  kill  an  antelope  one  day 
with  a  Colt's  navy  (taking  a  dead  rest)  at  a  distance  of  three  hun- 
dred paces.  The  regulation  "pace"  is  thirty  inches. 

157 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

had  a  navy  pistol,  too,  for  this  shot  he  give  him- 
self was  a  navy  ball." 

'And  taking  a  navy  bullet  out  of  his  pocket, 
Tom  showed  us  that  it  would  just  fit  the  hole  in 
the  skull. 

"He's  been  right-handed,  too,"  continued  the 
old  man,  "for  the  ball  went  in  on  the  right  side 
an'  come  out  on  the  left.  You  see,  the  little 
hole  is  clean-cut  on  the  right  side  but  bigger  an' 
ragged  on  the  left  where  it  come  out.  That  tells 
where  it  went  in  an'  where  it  come  out.  When 
he  wrote  that  note  on  the  old  shoulder-blade  he's 
been  getting  nervous,  or  maybe  weak  from  loss 
of  blood.  It's  a  pity,  though,  that  he  didn't  set 
down  his  name  an'  the  town  where  he  come  from 
a  little  plainer  so's  we  could  write  to  his  folks 
an'  let  'em  know  what  become  of  him.  But,  like 
many  another  poor  devil  that's  been  wiped  out 
by  Injuns,  his  people'll  never  know  where,  when, 
or  how  he  died. 

"Well,"  continued  the  old  man  after  a  pause, 
"I  b'lieve  I'll  ride  over  to  the  fort  to-morrow;  an' 
get  our  mail  an'  come  back  next  day,  an'  I  guess 
I'll  just  take  them  things  along,"  pointing  to  the 
bones,  "an'  maybe  some  o'  the  folks  over  there 
can  tell  me  somethin'  more  about  this  affair.  If 
anybody  knows  anything  about  it  French  Dave'll 
know,  for  he's  been  among  the  Injuns  a  good 
deal  an'  would  be  likely  to  have  heard  something 
about  it." 

158 


CHAPTER  XIV 
SATANTA'S  STORY 

day,  mounted  on  Black  Prince,  Tom 
started  for  Fort  Larned.  He  had  stowed 
the  skull  of  the  supposed  deceased  wolf  hunter  in 
a  gunny  sack  tied  to  his  saddle,  but  the  buffalo 
shoulder-blade  he  wrapped  carefully  in  the  fur  of 
a  fox  skin,  to  make  sure  that  no  chafing  should 
further  obliterate -the  already  obscure  record. 

These  relics  he  intended  to  submit  to  the  best 
sign  readers  to  be  found  about  the  fort,  to  ascer- 
tain if  any  light  could  be  thrown  on  the  supposed 
tragedy. 

As  I  was  writing  a  letter  to  send  in  by  Tom, 
Jack  remarked:  "We  ought  to  have  a  name  for 
our  camp,  a  place  to  date  letters  from,  something 
more  than  just  'Camp  on  Walnut  Creek/* 

"That  Couldn't  be  a  bad  idea,"  I  replied,  "but 
what  shall  we  call  it?  The  only  things  we  see 
here  are  buffaloes,  coyotes,  and  antelopes,  with  a 
few  prairie-dogs  and  rattlesnakes.  How  would  it 
do  to  call  our  place  'Camp  Antelope'?" 

"I  think  it  would  be  more  to  the  point,"  said 
Jack,  "to  call  it  'Camp  Coyote.'" 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  "why  not  compromise  and 
call  it  'Camp  Coyotelope ' ? " 

159 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Let  it  be  so,"  said  I,  and  I  so  dated  my  let- 
ter, and  from  that  time  on  we  spoke  of  our  win- 
ter home  as  Camp  Coyotelope. 

Nothing  unusual  happened  while  Tom  was  gone. 
Jack  tended  his  traps,  while  I  did  the  wolf  baiting 
and  skinning. 

On  the  second  evening,  just  in  time  for  supper, 
Tom  returned  from  Fort  Larned,  bringing  our 
mail,  and  as  we  gathered  around  the  table  we 
asked  him  anxiously  what  he  had  learned  about 
the  dead  man. 

"A  whole  lot,"  replied  the  old  man  between 
mouthfuls,  "an'  not  just  what  I  wanted  to  find  out, 
either.  None  of  'em  could  make  out  the  man's 
name  or  where  he  come  from  any  nigher  than  we 
did.  I  went  right  to  the  adjutant's  office,  where 
I  found  several  of  the  officers,  an'  when  I  brought 
out  the  bones  an'  told  'em  the  story  they  be- 
came interested.  One  officer  had  heard  something 
about  a  party  of  hunters  being  wiped  out  by  the 
Injuns  about  a  year  ago,  but  he  didn't  know  the 
particulars.  That  writing  on  the  old  shoulder- 
blade  attracted  'em  most,  an'  each  one  had  to 
take  it  an'  examine  it.  But  they  couldn't  make 
it  out. 

"I  suggested  to  the  adjutant  that  maybe  French 
Dave  might  know  something,  an'  he  sent  an  or- 
derly for  Dave  right  away,  an',  sure  enough,  the 
ol'  French-Canadian  did  know  something. 

"Ol'  Dave  asked  me:  'Where  you  find  'em?' 
160 


SATANTA'S  STORY 

An'  then  I  told  him  all  I  knew  about  the  matter, 
an'  what  the  signs  seemed  to  show,  an'  read  to  him 
the  writing  on  the  shoulder-blade,  for  Dave  can 
neither  read  nor  write.  He  studied  awhile  an' 
then  said:  'Yes — mus'  be  same  lot.  I  know 
'bout  yother  two.  See  'em  bones  where  Injuns 
kill  'em.  No  see  this  one  bones,  but  Satanta  tell 
me  'bout  it  one  day.  Mus'  be  same  one/ 

"The  story  of  the  affair,"  continued  Tom,  "as  I 
gathered  it  from  Dave,  is  about  thisaway:  Three 
wolf  hunters  with  a  wagon  an'  team  had  estab- 
lished their  camp  on  Walnut  Creek,  an'  from  what 
Dave  says  the  remains  of  that  camp  an'  the  bones 
of  two  of  the  men  must  be  down  the  creek  from 
here  about  five  miles,  on  the  same  side  we  are  on. 

"These  wolf  hunters  had  just  fairly  got  estab- 
lished when  Satanta  an'  about  twenty  of  his  men 
come  along,  one  day,  just  in  time  to  see  this  fel- 
low, whose  bones  you  found,  a-starting  off  on  the 
prairie  to  kill  a  buffalo  an'  poison  it  for  wolves. 
The  Injuns  hadn't  been  seen  by  the  white  men, 
an'  after  this  one  was  gone  Satanta  kept  his  men 
out  of  sight  of  the  wolf  hunters,  all  except  one 
besides  himself,  an'  him  an'  this  one  rode  out  in 
sight  of  the  white  men  an'  made  signs  of  friend- 
ship, an'  the  wolf  hunters  let  'em  come  into  their 
camp.  After  begging  some  grub  from  the  white 
men  the  two  Injuns  made  themselves  very  agree- 
able an'  friendly,  an'  by  and  by  a  few  more  of 
the  Kiowas  dropped  along  an'  was  allowed  to  come 

161 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

into  the  camp;  for  I  s'pose  they  seemed  so  friendly 
that  the  white  men  thought  it  wouldn't  look  neigh- 
borly to  show  any  suspicion  of  such  good  Injuns. 

"Satanta  told  Dave,  bragging  how  slick  he 
worked  it,  that  when  he  got  these  wolf  hunters  in 
a  proper  frame  of  mind  an'  saw  that  the  sign  was 
right,  he  give  the  word,  an'  they  turned  loose  and 
killed  the  two  men  before  they  had  time  to  realize 
the  trap  they'd  got  into. 

"Then,  after  plundering  the  camp,  a  warrior 
called  Lame  Deer  took  six  others  an'  started  off 
to  follow  up  an'  take  in  the  man  they'd  seen  going 
away,  for  fear  that  he  might  somehow  get  wind 
of  the  affair  before  coming  back  to  camp  and  get 
away. 

"They  overtook  him,  so  Satanta  told  Dave, 
just  after  the  man  had  killed  a  buffalo,  skinned 
part  of  the  hide  back,  an',  as  the  Injuns  supposed, 
was  about  to  cut  out  some  o'  the  hump  steak;  an', 
just  as  we  made  it  out  by  the  signs,  the  man,  see- 
ing the  desperate  fix  he  was  in,  had  cut  his  horse's 
throat  to  make  a  breastwork  of  his  carcass  on  one 
side,  an',  with  the  buffalo  on  the  other,  had  got 
down  between  'em  an'  give  the  Injuns  a  rattlin' 
good  fight,  killin'  one  Kiowa,  badly  woundin'  an- 
other, an'  killin'  the  two  ponies  you  found  the 
bones  of. 

"But  they  got  him  at  last — at  least  he  killed 
himself  when  he  was  down  to  his  last  cartridge— 
an'  then  they  piled  onto  him  an'  stripped  every 

162 


SATANTA'S  STORY 

stitch  of  clothes  off  his  body,  but,  seein'  that  the 
man  had  committed  suicide,  their  superstitions 
kept  'em  from  scalping  him  or  mutilating  his 
body. 

"An',  now  comes  a  gratifying  part  of  the  pro- 
ceedings, as  told  to  Dave  by  Satanta,  that  the 
signs  didn't  reveal  to  us.  When  Lame  Deer  an' 
his  party  had  stripped  the  dead  man  an'  his  horse 
of  all  their  equipments  an'  was  gittin'  ready  to 
return  to  Satanta's  party  at  the  hunters'  camp, 
some  of  the  Injuns  concluded  to  cut  out  a  big 
chunk  of  the  hump  steak  of  the  buffalo  that  the 
white  man  had  just  stripped  the  hide  off  of  an' 
intended  to  cut  out  the  steak  himself,  as  they 
s'posed. 

"But  it  turned  out  that  the  white  man  had  un- 
consciously set  a  death-trap  for  some  of  'em;  for 
he  had  already  poisoned  the  skinned  side  of  the 
buffalo,  and  when  the  Injuns  got  back  to  the 
camp  an'  cooked  an'  eat  their  fresh  hump  steak 
all  that  eat  the  fresh  meat  was  poisoned,  an'  four 
of  'em  kicked  the  bucket  right  there. 

"Well,  sir,  Dave  says,  this  so  scared  the  rest  of 
the  Injuns  that,  although  they  had  packed  their 
ponies  with  a  lot  of  the  white  men's  provender, 
they  were  afraid  to  use  any  of  the  food,  an'  so 
they  piled  all  of  it  into  the  white  men's  wagon 
an'  set  fire  to  it  an'  burned  the  whole  business. 

"Then,  packing  the  bodies  of  their  dead  war- 
riors on  their  ponies,  they  made  their  way  back 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

to  their  main  village,  some  miles  down  the  creek, 
a  little  the  loser  in  the  long  run,  for,  although  they 
had  killed  the  three  white  men  an'  destroyed 
their  outfit,  it  had  cost  'em  five  warriors. 

"The  wiping  out  of  these  wolf  hunters/'  Tom 
went  on,  "corroborates  what  I've  often  told  you, 
an'  what  your  own  experience  ought  to  teach 
you,  that  it's  never  safe  to  depend  on  the  friend- 
ship of  Injuns — 'specially  Kiowas.  Whenever  they 
can  get  a  good  chance  at  a  white  man,  or  a  small 
party  of  whites,  they  don't  hesitate  to  murder  'em 
—an*  'specially  a  party  of  hunters,  for  that  class 
they  consider  their  natural  enemies  on  account  of 
the  hunters  killing  what  the  Injuns  claim  to  be  the 
red  man's  game. 

"I  left  them  bones  with  the  adjutant  over  to 
the  fort,"  continued  Tom,  "as  he  thought  maybe 
somebody  might  come  along  who  could  throw  more 
light  on  the  mystery.  Then  I  called  on  Weissel- 
baum  an'  told  him  we  were  just  a-gettin'  under 
good  headway  poisoning  wolves,  trapping  beaver, 
an*  so  forth,  an'  he  offered  to  buy  all  our  catch 
— wanted  to  make  a  bargain  with  me  right  then — 
but  I  stood  him  off,  for  I  think  maybe  we  can  do 
better  to  take  our  skins  into  Leavenworth.  Some 
of  the  officers  wanted  to  know  if  we  couldn't  bring 
'em  over  a  saddle  of  antelope  for  their  mess  when- 
ever one  of  us  goes  over  there  for  our  mail.  I 
guess  we  can  do  it  just  as  well  as  not  an'  make  a 
little  spending  money  on  the  side;  an',  besides,  it's 


SATANTA'S  STORY 

always  a  good  idea  to  be  on  good  terms  with  the 
officers  at  the  post,  for  we  may  want  favors  from 
them  now  an'  then." 

Since  moving  into  our  dugout  we  had  found 
ourselves  so  much  more  cramped  for  room  than 
we  had  been  in  the  tent  that,  following  Tom's 
suggestion  and  example,  we  had  each  built  him- 
self a  swinging  frame  of  poles  with  a  buffalo-hide 
stretched  over  it  on  which  to  spread  our  beds. 
During  the  day  we  kept  these  hanging  bunks 
triced  up  to  the  timbers  overhead,  out  of  the 
way,  lowering  them  to  within  a  couple  of  feet  of 
the  floor  to  sleep  in  after  supper  each  evening. 
We  found  them  a  luxury  compared  with  sleeping 
on  the  hard  ground. 

Next  day,  after  Tom's  return  from  the  fort, 
Jack  and  I  rode  down  the  creek  to  look  for  the 
bones  of  the  wolf  hunters  of  whom  French  Dave 
had  told  Tom  and  had  little  difficulty  in  finding 
them,  for  the  burnt  remains  of  their  little  log 
cabin,  on  the  prairie,  a  little  way  from  the  tim- 
ber, attracted  us  and  guided  us  to  the  spot.  The 
bones  of  the  two  men  had  been  scattered  by  the 
wolves,  but  the  irons  of  their  burnt  wagon  were 
lying  just  where  the  fire  had  left  them. 

That  their  camp  had  been  established  at  a  rea- 
sonable distance  from  the  timber  and  otherwise 
well  located  in  a  defensive  point  of  view  showed 
that  these  men  had  had  some  knowledge  of  the 
dangers  to  be  guarded  against  from  hostile  In- 

165 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

dians  and  that  they  had  probably  been  plainsmen 
of  experience;  but,  as  Tom  said,  their  fatal  error 
was  in  allowing  too  many  Indians  to  come  into 
their  camp. 

We  were  now — about  the  middle  of  December— 
"doing  a  land-office  business,"  as  Jack  expressed 
it,  in  taking  wolf  pelts,  gathering  them  in  daily 
about  as  fast  as  we  could  take  care  of  them.  Jack 
was  doing  well  also  in  beaver  trapping,  having 
already  accumulated  a  lot  of  fine  furs. 

Tom  had  rigged  up  a  press  by  means  of  which 
we  put  the  skins  into  compact  bales  and  stowed 
them  away  in  the  tent.  The  tunnel  connecting 
the  dugout  and  tent  came  up  into  the  latter  right 
in  the  centre,  between  the  legs  of  the  iron  tripod 
that  supported  the  tent-pole,  and  he  placed  the 
bales  of  skins  in  a  close  wall  all  around  the  tent, 
leaving  an  open  space  in  the  centre  around  the 
tripod,  and  I  asked  him  why. 

"This  tent,"  he  answered,  "will  be  our  look- 
out station  and  also  our  'bomb-proof'  in  case  of 
need." 

"The  bales  of  fur'll  make  it  bullet-proof,  all 
right,"  I  replied,  "but  I  don't  see  how  we  can  see 
out  after  you  get  that  bank  of  wolfskins  piled  up 
toward  the  tops  of  the  doors." 

"When  we  get  them  up  that  high,"  said  Tom, 
"I  intend  to  cut  three  or  four  loopholes  in  the 
canvas,  about  big  enough  to  look  through  an'  shoot 
out  of,  an'  over  each  hole,  to  keep  out  the  weather, 

166 


SATANTA'S  STORY 
I'll  sew  a  flap  that  can  be  tucked  up  or  let  down  to 


suit  circumstances." 


"Great  head,"  said  Jack.  "A  good  general  was 
spoiled  when  Tom  enlisted." 

"In  time  of  peace,  prepare  for  war/  was  one 
of  George  Washington's  maxims,"  said  Tom,  "  an* 
never  was  more  sensible  advice  given  for  either 
individual  or  nation." 

Usually  Jack  and  I  did  most  of  the  hunting  and 
scouting  around  over  the  adjacent  country,  but 
now  and  then  Tom  would  strike  out  for  a  short 
trip  up  or  down  the  creek  on  his  own  account. 

One  day,  after  being  out  for  a  short  time,  he 
came  hurrying  back  and  began  to  delve  in  the 
mess-chest,  inquiring  for  a  fish-hook  and  line  that 
he  had  seen  there,  declaring  that  he  had  just 
found  a  lot  of  fresh  otter  tracks  on  the  bank  of  the 
creek. 

"Why,  Tom,"  asked  Jack  innocently,  "do  they 
catch  otter  with  fish-hooks  ? " 

"No,  you  numskull,"  replied  the  old  man  im- 
patiently, "the  fish-hook  and  line  is  to  catch  fish 
to  bait  traps  for  the  otter. 

"Now,  then,  Jack,"  continued  the  old  man  after 
finding  his  fishing-tackle  and  assuring  himself  that 
it  was  in  good  condition,  "come  along  with  me 
down  to  the  beaver  dam,  an'  while  I  catch  a  fish 
or  two  for  bait  you  pull  up  a  couple  of  your  beaver 
traps  an'  we'll  set  for  otter." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can  spare  you  a  couple  of  traps 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

now,"  replied  Jack.  "I  ain't  catching  as  many 
beavers  lately  as  when  I  first  started  in.  I  think 
I'm  getting  the  herd  pretty  well  thinned  out. 
But  I've  done  pretty  well  at  trapping,  for  I've 
took  some  thirty  odd  nice  beaver  skins  besides  a 
few  muskrats." 

A  few  hours  later  the  two  men  returned  to  camp 
after  having  caught  some  fish  and  baited  and  set 
the  traps  for  otter,  and  next  morning,  taking  Jack 
with  him,  Tom  found,  on  visiting  his  traps  and  fish- 
ing them  up  out  of  the  water,  a  fine  otter  fastened 
by  a  leg  in  each  trap  and  drowned.  Later  Tom 
took  a  number  of  otter  skins,  but  they  were  by 
no  means  as  numerous  as  the  beaver. 

Black  Prince,  after  he  became  accustomed  to 
it,  was  a  much  better  buffalo  horse  than  either 
of  the  mustangs,  though,  when  two  mounted 
hunters  went  out,  the  buckskin  bronco,  Vinegar, 
did  pretty  well  for  that  work.  The  gray  mare, 
Polly,  could  not  be  brought  near  enough  to  a 
buffalo  to  be  used  as  a  hunter.  Now  and  then 
Jack  and  I  went  afoot  down  to  the  slough  to  kill 
some  ducks  or  geese.  Our  shepherd  dog  Found 
was  a  good  retriever,  and  when  we  went  gunning 
for  water-fowl  we  generally  took  him  along  to 
bring  ashore  any  birds  killed  on  the  water. 

"I  want  to  remind  you  men,"  said  Tom  one 
day,  "that  this  fine  weather  we've  been  having 
can't,  in  the  nature  of  things,  last  much  longer. 
We're  liable  to  have  a  cold  rain,  turning  to  a  sleet 

168 


SATANTA'S  STORY 

or  snow-storm,  or  maybe  a  regular  old  blizzard 
swooping  down  on  us  now  soon,  an'  we  must  be 
prepared  for  it.  Our  camp's  in  pretty  good  shape, 
but  we  haven't  fitted  ourselves  out  with  fur  caps 
an'  mittens  an'  other  fixings  to  enable  us  to  stand 
the  winds  of  winter.  I  propose  that  we  put  in 
our  spare  time  for  the  next  few  days  a-dressing 
some  hides,  an'  then  a-cutting  out  and  making  us 
a  good  fur  cap  an'  pair  of  mittens  apiece,  an' 
something  in  the  way  of  buffalo  overshoes,  too, 
to  slip  on  over  our  boots,  an'  a  wolfskin  overcoat 
apiece. 

"Now,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  select  the  hides 
to  be  used  an'  flesh  'em,  an'  then  get  out  that 
package  of  alum  that  we  brought  along  to  tan 
'em  with  an'  go  to  dressing  'em.  Those  little 
yellow  fox  skins  ain't  worth  much  to  sell,  but  they 
will  be  just  the  things  for  caps  an'  mittens.  I've 
got  an  old  buffalo  robe  that  we  can  cut  up  for 
overshoes  an'  put  rawhide  soles  to  'em.  As  for 
myself,  I've  been  thinking  that  the  next  time  I 
go  over  to  the  fort  I'll  see  if  I  can  find  enough 
dressed  buffalo  calfskins  in  Weisselbaum's  stock 
—it'll  only  take  about  six  or  eight — to  make  me 
an  overcoat;  for  a  buffalo  calfskin  overcoat  is  a 
mighty  serviceable  garment  for  winter  wear." 

"You're  right,  they  are,"  said  Jack,  "but  I 
guess  me  an'  Peck'll  have  to  put  up  with  a  coyote 
coat  apiece  for  knockin'  around  here  this  winter, 
and  when  we  get  back  to  Leavenworth  we'll  have 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

a  stylish  overcoat  of  beaver  skins  put  up  for  next 
winter.  What  do  you  say,  Peck?" 

"I'm  favorable,"  I  replied,  "but,  as  this  is  a 
partnership  business,  of  course  we'll  have  to  pay 
Tom  for  his  interest  in  the  beaver  skins." 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man,  "I'll  balance  the  ac- 
count with  you  this  way.  I'll  make  it  a  stand- 
off, if  I  get  otter  skins  enough,  by  having  me  a 
fancy  overcoat  made  of  them." 

The  caps,  mittens,  overshoes,  and  coats  were 
duly  made  and  gave  us  much  comfort  during  the 
storms  of  winter. 

Game  continued  plenty.  We  often  killed  an- 
telope within  a  few  rods  of  our  dugout  and  some- 
times had  to  turn  out  in  the  night  and  help  the 
dog  drive  a  herd  of  buffalo  out  of  camp. 


170 


CHAPTER  XV 
WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

TN  preparing  for  a  probable  blizzard  we  had 
A  hauled  up  several  loads  of  good,  dry  wood  and 
chopped  much  of  it  into  stove  wood,  carrying  it 
into  our  quarters  and  stowing  it  away  in  the 
tunnel,  still  leaving  a  passageway,  however.  We 
found  that  the  tunnel  acted  as  a  flue  and  caused 
such  a  draught  through  our  little  room  that  we 
were  forced  to  temporarily  close  up  the  opening 
in  the  tent  by  placing  a  bale  of  wolfskins  over  the 
hole.  We  now  put  our  stock  into  their  dugout 
stable  at  night,  giving  them  a  little  hay  to  gnaw 
at,  and  during  the  day,  when  not  in  use,  we  kept 
them  out  on  the  dry  buffalo-grass.  As  yet  we  were 
feeding  them  no  grain,  saving  that  for  a  time  of 
need. 

"From  now  on,"  Tom  said,  "I  want  you  men 
to  be  particular  to  put  harness,  tools,  an*  every- 
thing under  shelter  of  nights,  so  that  we  can  find 
these  things  when  we  want  'em,  for  we're  liable 
to  get  up  'most  any  morning  now  and  find  a  couple 
of  feet  of  snow  on  the  ground  an'  this  ravine  be- 
tween us  an'  the  stable  drifted  level  full.  In  that 
case  we'll  want  the  spade  an'  shovel  to  clear  away  a 

171 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

passage  to  the  stable  door,  so's  we  can  'tend  to  the 
stock;  for  a  blizzard  is  liable  to  keep  up  the  howl 
for  several  days  an'  nights;  an'  during  such  a  spell 
we  won't  dare  to  poke  our  noses  out  of  the  shanty 
further  than  to  feed  the  stock.  We'll  fix  Found  a 
comfortable  bed  in  the  tent,  between  the  stacks 
of  wolfskins,  where  he  can  be  of  some  service  as  a 
sentry  without  being  too  much  exposed,  but  in 
case  of  a  very  keen  spell  we'll  bring  him  into  the 
dugout." 

Previous  to  this  time  Jack  and  I  had  explored 
the  country  for  a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  miles 
in  every  direction — not  looking  for  game  particu- 
larly, for  that  was  always  plenty  close  around 
camp,  but  for  signs  of  the  presence  of  Indians. 
We  had  discovered,  however,  no  fresh  signs- 
nothing  to  indicate  that  Indians  had  visited  this 
part  of  the  country  more  recently  than  a  couple 
of  months  past.  This  fact  encouraged  us,  and  we 
hoped  that  we  would  be  fortunate  enough  to  finish 
our  winter's  work  undisturbed.  Still,  Indians 
were  likely  to  be  moving  about  occasionally,  even 
at  this  time  of  the  year,  and  might  yet  discover 
our  camp,  in  which  case  they  might  make  it  un- 
pleasant for  us. 

This  part  of  the  plains  was  sometimes  ranged 
over  by  the  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  and  other 
tribes,  but  had  been  for  some  time  past  the  spe- 
cial range  of  the  Kiowas,  who,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  Satank,  Satanta,  and  Big  Tree,  were  ever 

172 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

ready  to  wipe  out  a  small  party  when  the  oppor- 
tunity presented. 

While  we  relied  somewhat  on  our  proximity 
to  Fort  Larned  as  a  protection  from  Indian  depre- 
dations, we  felt  that  our  only  real  security  was 
in  not  being  discovered  by  the  Kiowas  until  our 
hunting  season  was  over  and  we  were  ready  to 
break  camp  and  return  to  the  settlements. 

On  Tom's  last  trip  over  to  the  fort  he  had 
learned  that  our  old  Company  K,  First  Cavalry, 
together  with  the  other  three  companies  from  Fort 
Wise,  under  command  of  Captain  Elmer  Otis,  had 
passed  by  Fort  Larned  a  few  days  before,  en  route 
to  Fort  Leavenworth  and  the  war. 

We  were  all  sorry  that  we  had  not  learned  of  the 
passing  of  our  old  command  in  time  for  one  of  our 
party,  at  least,  to  meet  them  at  Fort  Larned  and 
exchange  gossip  with  them;  and  Jack  was  regret- 
ting that  he  had  not  re-enlisted,  instead  of  going 
wolf  hunting,  so  that  he  could  now  be  going  to 
the  front  with  them.  He  feared  that  the  fighting 
would  be  all  over  and  the  war  brought  to  a  close 
before  he  got  a  chance  at  it. 

"Don't  you  fret  about  this  war  coming  to  a 
close  before  you  can  get  a  whack  at  them  rebels," 
said  Tom.  "It's  just  a-getting  under  good  head- 
way now,  an'  there'll  be  lots  of  good  fighting  yet 
for  you  and  me;  and  more'n  likely,  if  we  live 
through  it,  we'll  be  longing  for  peace  long  before 
peace  comes  again." 

173 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Our  tent  was  fast  becoming  filled  with  bales  of 
wolfskins,  and  one  day  I  asked: 

"Tom,  what  are  we  going  to  do  for  some  place 
to  store  our  wolfskins?  Our  tent  is  nearly  full, 
and  we  are  still  taking  them,  and  the  season  isn't 
half  through." 

"I've  been  thinking  about  that,  too,"  replied 
the  old  man,  "and  I  guess  I'll  make  another  trip 
over  to  the  fort  to-morrow  to  get  them  buffalo  calf- 
skins for  my  overcoat,  an'  while  I'm  over  there  I'll 
try  to  get  the  use  of  an  empty  room  there  among 
the  old  dobes  where  we  can  store  'em;  an*  we  can 
take  a  wagon-load  over  from  time  to  time  as  the 
tent  gets  too  full." 

Next  day  he  went  to  the  fort,  returning  on  the 
following  evening,  with  a  lot  of  Indian-dressed 
buffalo  calfskins  for  his  overcoat,  and  reported 
that  he  had  engaged  an  unused  room  of  Weissel- 
baum  wherein  to  store  our  baled  skins. 

Tom  soon  had  a  very  serviceable  overcoat  made 
from  the  calfskins — far  better  than  the  coyote 
coats  Jack  and  I  had  made  us — lining  it  with  a 
red  blanket  and  covering  the  collar  and  cuffs  with 
muskrat  skins,  which  have  a  beautiful  fur,  some- 
what similar  to  the  beaver  in  color  but  not  so 
heavy. 

As  yet  we  had  had  but  one  light  fall  of  snow — 
nothing  like  a  storm — and  it  had  soon  passed  off, 
the  weather  continuing  fair  but  quite  cold  of 
nights  and  mornings. 

174 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

One  day,  as  we  were  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner, 
my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  whoop  or  two  that 
had  a  familiar  sound,  and,  on  looking  out  on  the 
trail  toward  the  fort,  I  saw  a  mounted  man  coming 
at  a  gallop.  Found,  too,  seemed  to  think  he  had 
heard  that  whoop  before,  for  he  ran  up  onto  the 
dirt  roof  of  our  dugout,  looked  and  listened  a 
moment  at  the  approaching  horseman,  and  when 
the  shout  was  repeated  he  hesitated  no  longer 
but  with  a  wild  yelp  of  recognition  dashed  away 
to  meet  the  newcomer. 

I  had  just  time  to  call  to  my  comrades  in  the 
dugout:  "See  here,  men,  I  believe  it's  Wild  Bill," 
when,  as  they  came  rushing  out,  I  noticed  the 
mounted  man  halt  suddenly  and  roll  off  his  horse 
as  the  dog  met  him,  and  in  a  moment  more  Found 
and  his  master  were  rolling  over  the  ground  hug- 
ging each  other  in  mad  delight,  while  Bill's  horse 
stood  looking  on  in  apparent  astonishment  at  their 
wild  antics. 

As  Bill  came  walking  up  to  camp,  leading  his 
horse,  with  Found  prancing  and  yelping  about 
him,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  dog  so  nearly 
crazy  with  delight.  No  doubt,  Found  had  often 
thought  of  his  absent  master  and  had  wondered 
what  had  become  of  him  and  whether  he  would 
ever  see  him  again;  and  now  they  were  reunited, 
and  both  seemed  overjoyed  at  the  meeting. 

After  hearty  greetings  and  handshakes  all  around 
the  scout  tied  his  horse  to  a  wheel  of  the  wagon 

175 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

while  we  all  retired  to  the  dugout,  where  our  din- 
ners were  in  danger  of  getting  cold,  and  were  soon 
seated  around  the  mess  box,  eating  and  talking, 
for  we  all  had  a  great  deal  to  say  to  Bill,  and  he 
to  us.  Found  had  huddled  down  beside  his  mas- 
ter and  was  not  neglected. 

"I  hope  you've  come  to  stay  several  days  with 
us,  Bill,"  said  Tom. 

"No,  boys,"  replied  the  scout;  "I'll  stay  with 
you  to-night,  but  I've  got  to  get  back  to  the  fort 
to-morrow.  You  see,  the  regulars  are  going  away 
before  long,  and  the  troops  that's  coming  to  take 
their  places  are  volunteers  and,  of  course,  green 
as  grass  about  frontier  service  and  managing 
Injuns;  an'  so  me  an'  French  Dave  an'  a  few  other 
oP  hands  have  got  to  get  out  an'  scout  around 
and  find  out  where  the  Injuns  are  at  an'  try  to 
find  out  how  they're  feelin'  toward  the  whites,  an' 
so  forth.  That's  what  I  was  sent  out  here  ahead 
of  the  volunteers  for.  But  when  I  get  back  to 
the  fort  I'll  be  close  enough  to  come  over  an'  take 
a  square  meal  with  you  every  now  and  then." 

Leaving  Bill  and  Tom  to  talk  while  the  old  man 
cleared  up  the  dishes,  Jack  and  I  went  out  to  at- 
tend to  the  stock;  and  the  Irishman  suggested 
that  while  I  took  our  two  broncos  out  of  the  stable 
and  staked  them  on  the  lee  side  of  the  haystack 
he  would  unsaddle  the  scout's  horse  and  put  him 
in  the  stable.  When  Bill  came  out  and  found 
what  he  had  done  he  remonstrated. 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

"Now,  boys,  I  don't  want  you  to  go  to  any 
trouble  on  my  account,  for  I'm  used  to  taking 
things  as  they  come,  an'  my  horse  is,  too.  I'm 
afraid  it'll  be  hard  on  your  broncos  to  turn  'em 
out  in  the  cold." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Jack.  "The  weather's 
not  bad  now,  an'  they're  tough,  anyway.  You  see, 
we  don't  have  the  honor  of  entertainin'  the  Hon- 
orable William  Hickock,  Esq.,  every  day,  an'  we 
want  to  treat  him  so  well  that  he'll  come  again." 

'Well,  I'll  sure  do  it,"  replied  the  scout;  then 
taking  a  look  at  our  camp  and  surrounding 
grounds,  he  added:  "Boys,  you've  certainly 
picked  out  an'  built  a  good  camp  an'  planned 
everything  handy  for  your  winter's  work.  I 
think  I  can  see  oY  Tom's  handiwork  all  through 
this  layout." 

"You're  right,"  said  Jack;  "if  it  wasn't  for  ol' 
Tom's  brains  I  don't  know  what  we'd  do." 

Going  into  the  stable  again,  Jack  brought  out 
Black  Prince  to  show  him  to  Bill. 

"This  is  the  horse  that  we  captured  from  them 
jayhawkers  back  t'other  side  of  Council  Grove," 
he  said  as  he  led  the  black  out  for  the  scout's 
inspection. 

"He's  a  fine-lookin*  fellow,  Jack.  Is  he  any 
good?" 

"You  bet.  One  of  the  best  horses  for  all-' round 
service  I  ever  saw,"  replied  the  enthusiastic  Irish- 
man. 

177 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

We  had  a  great  time  that  afternoon  relating  to 
Bill  all  the  happenings  since  we  parted  with  him 
in  Leavenworth,  and  after  supper  we  still  had 
plenty  to  talk  about  by  candle-light. 

"Boys,  you  seem  to  have  taken  good  care  of 
Found,"  said  Bill,  stroking  the  dog's  head  again 
for  the  thousandth  time,  "judging  by  his  looks 
and  the  contented  way  he's  stuck  to  you.  Has 
he  been  any  account  to  you  ? " 

"That  he  has,"  replied  Jack.  "He's  one  of 
the  best  and  smartest  dogs  I  ever  saw.  I  don't 
know  how  we'd  get  along  without  him." 

"Well,  I  guess  he  may  as  well  make  his  home 
with  you  as  long  as  you  stay  here,  for  I'll  be  away 
from  the  post  pretty  often,  an'  I  wouldn't  like  to 
leave  him  there  to  run  with  everybody;  but  if 
you've  no  objections  I'll  take  him  over  to  Larned 
with  me  to-morrow,  just  to  give  him  a  little  exer- 
cise an'  let  him  renew  old  acquaintance  with  the 
soldiers  an'  officers,  for  they  all  know  him;  an' 
I'll  be  coming  by  this  way  in  a  day  or  so  again — 
for  I  expect  I'll  have  to  take  a  trip  over  to  the 
Smoky  Hill  to  locate  the  Kiowas — an'  then  I'll 
leave  him  with  you  again." 

"All  right,  Bill,  he's  your  dog,"  replied  Jack, 
"but  he's  mighty  welcome  here  an'  he's  a  lot  of 
help  to  us  minding  camp." 

"No  doubt  of  it,  for  he's  got  more  sense  than 
some  people  have.  I  can  talk  to  him  an'  tell  him 
to  do  things,  an'  he  seems  to  understand  'most 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

everything  I  say  to  him  an'  will  do  just  what  I 
tell  him  to." 

"Bill,"  I  asked,  "do  the  officers  at  the  garrison 
seem  to  think  there's  any  danger  of  the  Indians 
going  on  the  war-path?" 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  think  they  really  expect  any 
outbreak,"  replied  the  scout,  "but  Injuns,  you 
know,  are  the  most  uncertain  varmints  on  earth; 
an*  on  account  of  taking  away  the  regulars  an* 
putting  green  volunteers  to  garrisoning  the  posts 
on  the  plains,  it's  more'n  likely  that  the  Injuns'll 
soon  discover  the  difference  an'  take  advantage 
of  the  chance  to  raise  a  ruction.  I've  got  to  look 
up  the  Kiowas  first,  'cause  they're  the  most  likely 
ones  to  make  trouble;  an'  when  I  find  their  winter 
camp  I'll  stay  with  'em  a  few  days,  to  kinder  feel 
of  'em  an'  see  what  sort  of  a  humor  they're  in, 
an'  then  I'll  hunt  up  the  Cheyennes  an'  Arapa- 
hoes  next  an'  feel  of  their  pulses,  too.  An'  while 
I'm  a-doing  that  job  French  Dave  an'  the  other 
fellows'll  be  looking  up  the  Comanches  an'  Prairie 
Apaches — they  generally  range  between  the  Cimar- 
ron  an'  Red  River,  an'  ain't  likely  to  come  up  this 
way  before  grass  comes,  anyway,  but  the  Kiowas 
an'  Cheyennes'll  need  watchin'." 

"Well,  when  you  get  back  you  must  call  around 
here  and  let  us  know  what  you  think  of  the  pros- 
pect for  peace  or  war — that  is,  if  you  find  out  any- 
thing," I  said. 

"How  many  of  you  will  go  on  this  trip?"  asked 
Tom. 

179 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Only  two — me  an'  John  Adkins.  You  see, 
Frenchy  is  to  take  a  man  with  him  an'  round 
up  the  country  south  of  the  Arkansas,  along  the 
Cimarron  an'  the  Canadians,  an'  I'll  take  Ad- 
kins  with  me  an'  scout  the  country  north  till  we 
find  the  camps. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Wild  Bill,  fol- 
lowed by  Found,  took  the  trail  back  to  Fort 
Larned.  Jack  and  I  made  our  usual  round  of  the 
baits  in  the  forenoon,  skinned  the  dead  wolves 
that  we  found  lying  about  them,  brought  in  the 
skins  ancl  pegged  them  down  to  dry. 

In  the  afternoon  we  started  out  afoot  to  kill 
some  fresh  meat  for  our  mess,  the  Irishman  going 
up  the  creek  in  search  of  antelope  or  deer  while  I 
walked  down  to  the  slough  to  see  if  there  were  any 
water-fowl  there  to  be  picked  up.  I  killed  a  sand- 
hill crane  and  returned  to  camp.  Jack  had  done 
better  than  I,  having  killed  a  large  deer  and  come 
back  and  taken  Prince  out  to  carry  the  meat  in. 
Tom  had  outdone  us  both,  having  killed  four  an- 
telope without  leaving  camp. 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  do  it,  Tom?"  I 
asked  as  I  come  to  where  he  was  busy  skinning 
and  dressing  four  dead  antelope  that  he  had 
strung  up. 

"Well,  sir,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,"  replied  he 
with  a  gratified  smile,  still  plying  his  butcher-knife. 
"Soon  after  you  men  left  camp  a  bunch  of  antelope 
come  playing  'round  on  the  prairie  out  yonder, 

1 80 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

up  the  ravine  a  piece,  but,  as  they  wouldn't  come 
quite  close  enough  to  suit  me,  I  got  out  a  red 
blanket,  tied  it  to  a  little  pole,  an'  crept  along  up 
the  ravine  till  I  got  about  opposite  to  'em,  an' 
then  raised  the  red  blanket  above  the  bank  an' 
planted  the  pole. 

"Soon  as  they  sighted  the  strange  red  thing 
they  raised  their  heads  an'  stared  at  it  a  bit, 
an'  then  come  up  toward  it,  all  in  a  bunch,  an' 
stopped  an'  took  another  look.  Then  they  seemed 
to  get  frightened  an'  turned  an'  run  away,  but 
I  knew  they'd  come  back.  They  circled  'round 
an'  come  up  again  an'  halted  for  another  look, 
an'  then  run  away  again  an'  circled  'round  an' 
come  back,  an'  each  time  they  came  a  little 
closer. 

"I  noticed  that  when  they'd  halt  to  gaze  at  the 
blanket  they'd  line  up  four  or  five  abreast;  so  the 
idea  struck  me  that  if  I  could  get  back  into  an- 
other little  ravine  that  was  close  by,  an'  crawl  up 
that  a  little  ways,  so  as  to  take  'em  in  flank  when 
they'd  line  up  thataway,  I'd  get  two  or  three  of 
'em.  I  did  that,  an'  the  next  time  they  halted  an' 
lined  up  there  were  four  of  'em  in  range,  with  their 
sides  to  me,  an'  I  turned  loose  an'  killed  three  of 
'em  an'  wounded  the  fourth  so  that  I  got  him 
next  shot." 

'You  did  a  good  job,  and  did  it  well,  too,"  I 
replied,  Just  then  Jack  came  up  with  his  load  of 
deer  meat.  "Why,  Jack,"  I  began,  "how  in  the 

181 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

world  did  you  happen  to  kill  a  buck?     I  didn't 
think  you  were  hunter  enough  to  stalk  a  deer." 

"You  don't  appear  to  know  me,  young  fellow," 
he  returned  with  a  swaggering  air.  "It's  a  mighty 
hunter  I'm  getting  to  be,  as  well  as  a  famous 
trapper." 

"But  tell  us  all  about  how  you  got  that  buck;  I 
know  there's  something  to  explain  about  it,"  I 
replied. 

"Well,  now,"  laying  aside  his  assumed  bragga- 
docio and  becoming  the  candid  Irishman  again, 
"to  tell  you  the  honest  God's  truth,  I  just  blun- 
dered onto  him.  It  was  this  way:  I  was  a-sneak- 
ing  along  through  the  timber  when  all  of  a  suddent 
I  sees  this  laddybuck  a-standing  broadside  to  me, 
only  about  twenty  steps  away,  an'  he  hadn't  seen 
nor  heard  me,  for  I  was  behind  a  big  tree.  I  was 
that  nervous  I  didn't  think  I  could  have  hit  the 
side  of  a  barn,  so  I  rested  my  carbine  against  the 
side  of  the  tree,  took  as  good  aim  as  I  could  about 
where  I  thought  his  heart  ought  to  be — right  be- 
hind the  fore  shoulder — an'  let  him  have  it;  an* 
I'm  blest  if  I  didn't  fetch  him,  first  pop.  He  gave 
one  big  bound  into  the  air  an'  fell  dead;  an'  just 
then  two  does,  that  had  been  laying  down  behind 
some  bushes,  jumped  an'  run  an'  were  out  of 
sight  in  a  jiffy,  before  I  could  shove  another  car- 
tridge into  me  carbine.  But  I  didn't  want  any 
more  deer  meat  just  then,  so  I  came  back  to  camp 
to  get  the  horse  to  fetch  the  meat  in." 

182 


WILD  BILL  VISITS  US 

"But,  Tom,"  I  asked,  "what  are  we  going  to  do 
with  so  much  venison?" 

"Oh,  it'll  keep,  all  right;  but  then  I'll  be  going 
over  to  the  fort  again  in  a  day  or  so,  an'  I  guess 
I'd  as  well  take  two  or  three  of  the  carcasses  over 
there  an'  sell  'em  to  the  officers'  mess." 


183 


CHAPTER  XVI 
TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 


evening,  just  before  dark,  when  we  were 
bringing  in  the  tools  and  making  things  se- 
cure for  the  night,  I  noticed  that  Tom  had  got 
out  an  old  padlock  that  had  long  lain  unused  in 
the  mess-chest,  and  then  had  found  a  piece  of 
trace-chain,  and  with  the  two  had  securely  locked 
the  stable  door  —  a  precaution  that  we  had  never 
thought  necessary  before  —  and  I  asked  him: 
"What  are  you  doing  that  for,  Tom?  Seen  any 
fresh  signs  about?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  "but  'tain't  much  trouble 
an'  it's  always  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  We've 
been  used  to  having  Found  to  do  guard-duty  of 
nights,  an'  it  may  have  got  us  in  a  fashion  of  sleep- 
ing sounder  than  we  would  if  we'd  had  to  look  out 
for  ourselves;  now,  while  the  dog  is  away,  with  the 
stable  door  unlocked  it  would  be  easy  enough  for 
an  Injun  to  sneak  our  horses  out  an'  get  away  with 


'em." 


I  smiled  at  what  seemed  to  me  a  useless  pre- 
caution and  it  passed  from  my  mind;  but  along  in 
the  night,  after  we  had  been  some  hours  asleep,  I 

184 


TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 

was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  slight  noise  like  the 
rattling  of  a  chain. 

Instantly  I  was  thoroughly  aroused  and  remem- 
bered Tom's  chain  on  the  stable  door.  Had  I  been 
dreaming?  I  raised  my  head  cautiously  and  lis- 
tened intently.  There  it  was  again — unmistak- 
ably the  chain  on  the  stable  door. 

I  determined  to  investigate  before  arousing  my 
comrades,  and  slipping  quietly  out  of  my  bed  I 
tiptoed  carefully  to  the  door,  pulled  up  one  cor- 
ner of  the  muslin  cover  to  the  lookout  hole,  and 
peeped  out  at  the  stable  door.  The  moon  was 
shining  brightly,  and  there,  to  my  astonishment, 
sat  a  man,  crouched  at  the  door  of  the  stable  in- 
tently working  at  the  lock,  either  trying  to  pick 
it  or  pry  it  off.  He  was  not  an  Indian,  either. 
He  had  soldier  clothes  on,  and  beside  him  on  the 
ground  lay  a  small  bundle. 

I  took  in  all  this  at  a  glance,  and  then  quietly 
and  quickly  slipped  back  to  Tom's  bed,  shook  him 
gently,  and  whispered: 

"Sh!  don't  make  a  bit  of  noise,  Tom.  There's 
a  man  working  at  the  lock  on  the  stable  door. 
Get  up  quietly  while  I  wake  Jack." 

It  was  more  difficult  to  keep  the  excitable  Irish- 
man quiet  while  arousing  him,  but  I  succeeded  in 
getting  him  up  without  making  noise  enough  to 
be  heard  outside.  Each  man  took  a  look  through 
the  peep-hole  and  saw  that  the  crouching  soldier 
was  still  intently  working  at  the  lock. 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Now,"  I  whispered  to  my  comrades,  "let  each 
one  of  us  get  his  carbine  or  pistol  ready,  and  be 
careful  to  keep  them  from  rattling,  and  when  I 
open  our  door  we'll  call  on  him  to  throw  up  his 
hands  and  take  him  prisoner." 

"I  think  Til  give  him  a  load  of  shot  first," 
whispered  Jack,  who  had  the  shotgun,  "an*  then 
call  on  him  to  throw  up." 

Finding  that  I  could  not  open  our  door  without 
making  a  noise,  I  jerked  it  wide  open  quickly.  As 
I  did  so  the  kneeling  man  turned  the  full  side  of 
his  face  to  me,  and  in  the  bright  moonlight  I 
recognized  private  John  Flaherty,  one  of  two 
soldiers  who  not  long  before,  with  Lieutenant 
Smith,  had  been  caught  in  a  blizzard  at  our  camp 
and  had  stayed  there  until  the  storm  was  over. 
Seeing  Jack  raise  his  shotgun  to  fire,  I  knocked 
the  muzzle  up  as  I  exclaimed: 

"Don't  shoot,  Jack,  it's  Flaherty!" 

He  had  pressed  the  trigger,  but  my  throwing 
the  barrels  up  sent  the  load  of  shot  into  the  dirt 
roof  of  the  stable  instead  of  into  Flaherty's  back. 

I  wondered  at  the  stupid,  sluggish  manner  of 
the  man  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  at  the  report  of  the 
gun,  but  when  he  started  off  up  the  path  leading 
to  the  top  of  the  bank  his  uncertain  gait  plainly 
showed  that  he  was  drunk. 

Dropping  his  shotgun,  Jack  bounded  out  and 
up  the  path  after  him,  soon  overtaking  the  drunken 
soldier,  seizing  him  by  the  collar  and  cuffing  him 

1 86 


TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 

right  heartily,  with  each  slap  rebuking  the  would- 
be  horse  thief  for  his  drunkenness  and  thievery. 

When  Flaherty  was  brought  into  the  dugout 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  almost  senseless  from 
drink.  He  was  taken  over  to  Pound's  bed  and 
left  there,  sound  asleep. 

"There,"  said  Tom,  "we  forgot  to  bring  in  that 
little  bundle  he  left  by  the  stable  door." 

He  brought  it  in,  and  on  opening  it  it  was  found 
to  consist  of  a  pint  bottle  with  a  little  whiskey  in 
it  and  a  change  of  underclothing  marked  with  the 
man's  initials. 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  "this  poor  fellow  has  gone 
on  a  spree;  while  drunk  the  idea  of  deserting  has 
come  to  him,  and  he  has  started  off  over  the  prairie 
in  the  dead  of  winter,  through  an  Indian  country, 
without  arms,  provisions,  or  clothing.  As  I  have 
often  said,  a  man  who  is  drunk  is  literally  crazy, 
and  this  proves  it." 

Next  morning,  when  Flaherty  was  aroused,  he 
had  at  first  no  idea  where  he  was  and,  after  he 
had  been  told,  no  idea  how  he  got  here.  He  pro- 
fessed that  he  had  no  wish  to  desert,  for  he  was 
getting  along  in  his  company  as  well  as  any  of 
the  men  and  his  time  of  service  had  nearly  ex- 
pired. 

However,  he  actually  had  deserted,  and  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do,  whether  to  go  back  and  give 
himself  up  and  take  his  punishment  or  whether  to 
go  on.  Tom  said  to  him: 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Of  course,  Flaherty,  you  can  do  as  you  like, 
but  I  really  think,  under  the  circumstances,  you 
had  best  go  back  and  give  yourself  up  and  take 
your  medicine.  Maybe,  if  I  go  along  with  you 
and  explain  the  situation  to  Lieutenant  Smith, 
and  ask  him  to  intercede  with  the  commanding 
office,  you  can  be  returned  to  duty  without  a 
court  martial." 

"Would  you  do  that  for  me,  Tom?"  asked 
Flaherty  gratefully. 

"I'll  do  all  I  can  for  you,  Flaherty,  for  I  do  not 
hold  you  responsible  for  what  you  have  done;  but 
you  had  a  mighty  close  call,  and  if  whiskey  serves 
you  that  way  you  ought  to  take  warning  and 
swear  off." 

"That's  just  what  I've  been  thinking,  Tom,  and 
I  swear  right  now  I'll  never  taste  another  drop." 

As  I  rode  up  to  camp  about  sundown  that  day 
I  noticed  two  or  three  mounted  men  far  out  on  the 
high  prairie,  coming  on  the  trail  from  Fort  Larned. 
The  field-glass  made  them  out  to  be  Wild  Bill  and 
John  Adkins  with  a  pack-mule,  and  Found  trot- 
ting along  with  them.  They  soon  reached  us  and 
dismounted  and  began  unpacking. 

"Is  supper  most  ready,  boys?"  asked  Bill. 

"I'll  have  it  ready,"  replied  Jack,  "by  the  time 
you're  ready  for  it." 

"We've  just  got  room  in  the  stable  for  your 
two  horses,"  I  explained,  "in  place  of  the  mule 
team  Tom  took  with  him,  and  I  guess  I'll  take  one 

188 


TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 

of  our  broncos  out  and  tie  it  behind  the  haystack 
to  make  room  for  your  pack-mule,  Bill." 

"  Don't  you  do  anything  of  the  kind,  Peck," 
replied  the  scout.  "That's  one  of  Uncle  Sam's 
mules,  an'  he'll  do  well  enough  tied  in  the  lee  of 
your  haystack;  in  fact,  it  wouldn't  hurt  our  horses 
much,  either,  to  stand  out." 

While  Bill,  Adkins,  and  I  had  been  watering, 
feeding,  and  putting  away  the  stock,  Jack  had 
been  getting  supper,  and  now  stepped  to  the  door 
of  the  dugout  with  his  fiddle  and  sounded  "mess 
call,"  to  see  if  the  scout  would  know  what  it 
meant. 

"That  sounds  pretty  natural,"  said  Bill  to  me, 
"let's  go  in  an'  see  what  he's  got  to  show  for  it, 
for  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  coyote." 

As  we  gathered  around  the  mess-chest  I  in- 
quired : 

"When  do  they  expect  the  volunteers  that  are 
coming  to  relieve  the  regulars  ? " 

"Don't  know  a  thing,  only  that  they're  on  the 
road  somewhere  'tween  here  an'  Leavenworth. 
Now,  if  they  were  regulars  you  could  calculate  to 
the  hour  when  they'd  get  here,  for  when  they  get 
orders  to  go  anywhere  neither  hell  nor  high  water'll 
stop  'em;  but  if  a  little  bad  weather  strikes  these 
volunteers,  an'  they  can  find  a  snug  camping 
place,  they're  liable  to  hang  up  for  a  week  or  two, 
an'  put  in  the  time  stealing  chickens  an'  playing 
cards." 

189 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"How  long  do  you  and  Adkins  expect  to  be  gone 
on  this  trip,  Bill?" 

"Well,  now,  that's  a  sort  of  a  'kin-savvy'  case," 
he  replied.  "It  depends  on  how  soon  we  find  the 
Injuns1  camp.  Maybe  it'll  take  us  a  week— 
maybe  two  weeks  or  more — can't  tell;  but  once 
we  get  onto  their  trail  we'll  soon  overhaul  'em. 
John,  here,  says  that  ol'  To  hausen,  the  'Little 
Mountain,'  an'  his  band  is  camped  right  down 
Walnut  Creek,  about  half-way  'tween  here  an' 
Charley  Rath's  ranch — 'bout  twenty-five  miles 
from  here." 

"Yes,"  said  Adkins,  "I  was  up  to  their  camp 
'bout  a  week  ago,  an  since  that  some  of  the  Injuns 
was  down  to  the  ranch  a-trading;  but  they  don't 
know,  for  sure,  where  Satank  an*  the  rest  of  the 
tribe  is;  but  they  thought  we'd  be  apt  to  find  'em 
on  the  Smoky,  or  the  Saline,  or  Solomon,  or  maybe 
on  some  of  the  little  timbered  creeks  in  between 
the  rivers." 

"Do  you  think,  Adkins,"  I  asked,  "that  there 
is  any  likelihood  of  To  hausen's  band  moving  up 
this  way?  For  it  would  bother  our  wolf-hunting 
business  if  they  should  come  near  us." 

"Oh,  they  may  be  a-moving  camp  now  an'  then, 
to  get  fresh  grass  for  their  bosses;  but  if  they  get 
to  crowdin'  on  you,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  go 
to  ol'  To  hausen  an'  ask  him  to  keep  far  enough 
away  so's  not  to  interfere  with  your  wolf  poison- 
ing, an'  he'll  do  it,  for  he's  a  pretty  good  ol'  In- 

190 


TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 

jun,  an'  always  tries  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
the  whites.  There's  only  about  a  hundred  men  in 
his  band,  an'  they're  mostly  ol'  men  what's  had 
experience  enough  to  know  that  it  pays  better  to 
keep  on  good  terms  with  Uncle  Sam's  people  than 
to  be  bucking  again  'em.  But  the  most  of  the 
tribe  now  seems  to  be  of  the  other  way  of  think- 
ing an'  have  split  off  from  ol'  To  hausen,  who 
used  to  be  head  chief,  an'  taken  to  following  the 
lead  of  such  devils  as  Satank,  an'  Satanta,  an'  Big 
Tree;  an'  they're  the  ones  we've  got  to  look  out 
for." 

"Where  do  vou  expect  to  find  the  Kiowa  trail, 
Bill?" 

"Well,  from  here,  we'll  follow  this  ol'  lodge-pole 
trail;  it  turns  off  from  the  Walnut  a  few  miles  up 
the  creek  an'  goes  over  to  the  Smoky  Hill,  which 
is  about  twenty  miles  from  here;  an'  about  oppo- 
site this  point  on  the  Smoky  is  a  mail  station  on 
the  Denver  stage  route,  an'  I  reckon  we'll  be  able 
to  find  out  from  the  station  men  whether  the 
Kiowas  have  gone  up  or  down  the  river  an'  lay 


our  course  to  suit.'1 


"When  we  first  came  here,"  I  informed  him, 
"it  looked  like  the  last  travel  over  the  trail  had 
been  about  two  months  before — that  would  have 
been  about  September — and  the  tracks  were  going 
toward  the  Smoky  Hill;  but  they  might  have  been 
made  by  Cheyennes  or  'Rapahoes." 

"We'll  be  apt  to  find  an  old  moccasin,  or  a 
191 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

broken  arrow,  or  somethin'  dropped  or  thrown 
away  on  the  trail,  before  we  travel  very  far, 
that'll  tell  what  tribe  travelled  it  last,"  remarked 
the  scout. 

"I  noticed  that  you  don't  carry  any  picket- 
pin,"  I  remarked;  "how  do  you  picket  your  horse 
out?" 

"I  picket  him  to  a  hole  in  the  ground.  I  dig  a 
hole  with  my  knife  about  a  foot  deep;  tie  a  big 
knot  in  the  end  of  my  lariat;  put  it  down  in  the 
bottom  of  the  hole;  fill  in  the  dirt  an'  tamp  it 
down  hard  as  I  can  with  my  foot;  an'  that'll  hold 
him  'bout  as  good  as  a  picket-pin,  an'  saves  the 
trouble,  an'  saves  my  horse  the  weight  of  the  iron 
pin;  an'  I  always  try  to  lighten  my  horse's  load 
of  every  ounce  I  can  do  away  with.  An'  when 
I'm  out  by  myself,  or  where  there's  nobody  to 
stan'  guard  at  night,  I  make  my  bed  with  my  head 
on  my  saddle,  'bout  half-way  'tween  my  horse 
an'  the  end  of  my  lariat  that's  buried,  an'  if  any- 
thing strange  comes  in  sight  the  horse'll  begin 
running  'round  at  the  end  of  his  rope,  an*  dragging 
it  over  me'll  wake  me  up." 

"Well,  your  way  of  doing  these  things  is  just 
about  the  same  as  we  were  trained  to  do  in  the 
cavalry,"  I  remarked. 

"Why,  of  course,"  replied  Bill,  "for  nearly  all 
I  know  about  scouting  is  what  I  learnt  from  the 
ol'  cavalrymen  an'  ol'  army  officers.  You  take 
one  of  them  ol'  soldiers  or  officers  that's  been  out 

192 


TOM  LOCKS  THE  STABLE  DOOR 

on  the  frontier  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  an'  what 
he  don't  know  about  such  matters  ain't  worth 
knowing." 

In  the  morning,  after  breakfast,  while  assisting 
the  two  scouts  to  saddle  up  and  pack  their  mule, 
Jack  cut  off  an  antelope  ham  and  tied  it  in  their 
pack,  "to  give  them  a  starting  of  fresh  meat,"  as 
he  said. 

Taking  up  a  position  in  front  of  Bill,  Found 
stood  wagging  his  tail  and  looking  up  pleadingly 
into  his  master's  face,  seeming  to  ask:  "May  I  go 
with  you?" 

"No,  Found,"  said  the  scout,  between  whom 
and  his  dog  there  seemed  to  be  a  perfect  under- 
standing, "you  can't  go.  It'd  be  too  long  an' 
hard  a  road  for  you  an'  would  wear  you  out. 
You  must  stay  right  here  till  I  come  back." 

Then,  turning  to  me,  he  said : 

"You'd  better  get  his  chain  an'  collar  an'  I'll 
tie  him  to  that  post  there,  an'  he'll  know  by  that 
that  I  don't  want  him  to  go  an'  he'll  not  try  to 
follow  us  after  we  leave." 

I  brought  the  chain  and  Bill  took  it  and  tied 
the  dog,  petting  and  talking  kindly  to  him,  and 
then  making  him  lie  down,  which  seemed  to  satisfy 
Found  that  his  master  desired  him  to  remain. 

"Let  us  hear  from  you,  Bill,"  I  requested,  "as 
soon  as  you  get  back,  will  you,  for  I'd  like  to 
know  how  the  Kiowas  are  feeling." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  he  replied;  "if  I  don't  come  back 
193 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

this  way  I'll  come  over  from  the  fort  soon  after  we 
get  back." 

Mounting  their  horses — Adkins  leading  the 
pack-mule,  while  Wild  Bill  rode  behind  to  drive  it 
up — they  crossed  the  creek  below  the  beaver  dam, 
and  were  soon  out  of  sight  behind  the  timber. 


194 


CHAPTER  XVII 
VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

'  I  AOM  returned  from  Fort  Larned  that  evening. 
He  hoped  that  his  intercession  for  Flaherty 
would  procure  a  mitigation  of  the  usual  penalty; 
but  desertion,  even  under  extenuating  circum- 
stances, was  too  serious  an  offence  to  pass  without 
at  least  a  form  of  punishment.  The  culprit  was 
put  in  the  guard-house,  with  a  fair  prospect,  how- 
ever, of  being  released  and  restored  to  duty  before 
long. 

The  long-expected  three  companies  of  volun- 
teer cavalry  had  arrived  to  relieve  the  old  garri- 
son, and  as  soon  as  the  government  property  could 
be  transferred  from  the  old  officials  to  the  new,  the 
old  garrison — two  companies  of  Second  Infantry 
and  one  of  Second  Dragoons — would  march  away 
to  Fort  Leavenworth.  A  week  later  our  old  com- 
rades, the  regulars,  were  gone. 

On  his  return  from  his  next  visit  to  Fort  Larned, 
two  weeks  later,  Tom  had  much  to  say  about  the 
lack  of  discipline  shown  by  the  volunteers  at  the 
fort,  and  as  we  gathered  around  the  mess  box,  after 
putting  the  mules  away,  he  continued  his  com- 
plaints. 

195 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"The  volunteers  don't  know  anything  about 
soldiering,"  said  Tom,  "an*  the  officers  are  no 
better.  It  nearly  broke  my  heart  to  see  the  miser- 
able imitation  of  military  service  they're  gettin' 
off. 

"Now,  to  give  you  an  idea  of  their  style,  com- 
pared with  regulars,  what  would  you  think  to 
see  a  buck  private  in  his  dirty  fatigues  come 
a-saunterin'  up  to  the  adjutant's  office,  flop  him- 
self down  in  a  chair,  hoist  his  muddy  boots  up 
onto  a  table,  push  his  hat  back,  an'  say  to  the 
commanding  officer,  who  was  occupying  a  similar 
position  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table:  'Well, 
Joe,  what  do  you  think  of  this  layout,  as  far  as 
you've  got  ? ' 

"Oh,  come  now,  Tom,"  said  Jack  with  an  in- 
credulous smile,  "you  don't  expect  us  to  believe 
such  a  yarn  as  that?" 

"It's  gospel  truth,"  exclaimed  the  old  man. 
"Here's  another  sample  of  how  they  do  it:  A  cap- 
tain was  standin'  in  front  of  the  adjutant's  office 
smokin'  a  cigar,  an'  a  corporal  strolled  up  to  him 
an'  asked:  'I  say,  Cap,  have  you  got  the  mate  to 
that  about  your  clothes?' 

"Peck,  do  you  believe  him?"  said  Jack,  ap- 
pealing to  me;  and  without  waiting  for  my  an- 
swer, he  continued:  "I  do  be  afeared  Tom's  been 
mixin'  his  drinks." 

"Here's  another  one,"  said  Tom.  "A  lieuten- 
ant an'  about  a  dozen  men  come  out  of  their 


VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

quarters  an'  started  straggling  off  toward  the 
stables,  an'  I  followed  'em  to  see  what  they  were 
up  to.  They  went  into  the  stable  an'  went  to 
saddling  their  horses  to  go  somewheres.  By  and 
by  the  lieutenant  got  his  horse  saddled  an'  called 
back  into  the  stable:  'Are  you  all  ready  there, 
boys?'  Some  were  ready,  an'  come  leadin'  their 
horses  out;  but  one  fellow  called  back  to  him: 
'Don't  you  get  in  such  a  rush  there  now,  for  I've 
got  to  put  my  spurs  on  yet.'  Another  fellow  said : 
'I've  got  a  notion  not  to  go,  for  I  told  the  ser- 
geant not  to  put  my  name  on  this  detail.'  'Oh, 
yes,  John,  you'd  better  come  along.  We'll  have 
a  good  time,'  said  the  lieutenant,  kind  of  coaxing 
him. 

"Well,  after  callin'  back  again  to  the  man  who 
hadn't  got  his  spurs  on,  an'  getting  the  answer 
that  he  was  about  ready,  instead  of  giving  his 
commands  in  military  style,  to  'Lead  into  line!' 
'Count  fours!'  'Prepare  to  mount!'  'Mount!' 
'Form  ranks!'  an'  then  move  out  'by  fours,'  how 
do  you  suppose  he  did  it?  Well,  sir,  he  just  says: 
'Well,  get  on  your  horses,  boys,'  an'  climbed  onto 
his  horse,  an'  started  off,  saying  as  he  looked  back 
over  his  shoulder:  'Come  ahead,  fellows.'  An' 
they  straggled  off  after  him. 

"Well,  they're  good  enough  men,  on  an  aver- 
age, I  guess,"  continued  Tom,  "an'  will  make  good 
soldiers  if  they  just  had  the  right  sort  of  officers 
over  'em;  for  good  officers  make  good  soldiers,  an' 

197 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

vice  versa.  But  how  can  the  blind  lead  the  blind  ? 
Their  officers  can't  instruct  the  men,  for  the  offi- 
cers don't  know  anything  about  military  matters 
themselves.  An'  it's  one  of  the  truest  sayings 
that  ever  was  said  that  'familiarity  breeds  con- 
tempt'; an'  if  an  officer,  or  even  a  non-com,  ex- 
pects to  command  the  respect  and  obedience  of 
them  that's  subject  to  his  orders,  he's  got  to  hold 
himself  aloof  from  'em,  to  a  reasonable  degree; 
an'  he's  got  to  prove  himself  competent  to  com- 
mand 'em." 

Naturally,  Jack  and  I  became  very  anxious  to 
go  over  to  the  fort  and  see  things  for  ourselves, 
and  when  the  time  came  for  going  after  our  next 
mail  and  taking  in  another  load  of  wolfskins 
Tom  agreed  to  let  us  both  make  the  trip,  on  a 
strict  promise  from  Jack  that  he  would  not  taste 
liquor. 

At  the  post  we  found  the  state  of  affairs  about 
as  Tom  had  represented.  Officers  and  men  seemed 
equally  ignorant  of  military  affairs  and  especially 
of  frontier  service. 

While  loafing  about  the  sutler's  store  next  day, 
Weisselbaum  came  out  of  his  back  room  and,  call- 
ing me  to  one  side,  said  confidentially: 

"I've  got  a  job  for  you,  Peck,  and  there's  good 
pay  in  it,  too.  It's  this  way:  There's  a  young 
man  here,  Lieutenant  Lang,  in  command  of  one  of 
these  companies;  he's  got  plenty  of  money;  his 
father's  rich  an'  furnishes  him  plenty.  He's  a 

198 


VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

first-rate  fellow.  But  he's  considerably  embar- 
rassed just  now,"  he  continued;  "the  captain  of 
the  company  has  been  away  from  it  for  several 
months,  leaving  the  lieutenant  in  command,  and 
during  that  time  he  has  received  a  lot  of  govern- 
ment property,  for  which  he's  got  to  account,  of 
course,  and  he's  kept  no  accounts  and  has  noth- 
ing to  show  what's  become  of  this  stuff.  You  see, 
he's  in  a  bad  fix,  and  unless  he  can  find  some  one 
who  understands  these  affairs  to  help  him  out,  he's 
going  to  have  to  pay  the  government  several  hun- 
dred dollars — maybe  as  much  as  a  thousand  or 
two — out  of  his  own  pocket,  or  his  daddy's 
rather.  He  stated  his  case  to  me  and  asked  if  I 
knew  of  any  one  that  he  could  get  to  straighten 
up  his  company  papers;  and  when  I  saw  you  I 
remembered  that  you  used  to  be  company  clerk 
in  your  old  company  at  Fort  Riley,  and  I  thought 
you  would  know  how  to  help  him  out  of  the 
scrape,  if  anybody  would.  He'll  be  willing  to 
pay  you  big  for  it.  What  do  you  say  to  the 
job?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,"  I  replied.  "I'll 
have  to  consult  my  partners  over  at  the  camp 
before  I  can  give  an  answer.  It  may  be  that  I 
can  arrange  with  them  to  get  away  from  the  wolf 
hunting  business  long  enough  to  do  this  work  for 
the  lieutenant,  but  I  can't  promise  it  till  I  con- 
sult Tom  and  Jack." 

"Well,  come  back  into  my  office,"  said  Weissel- 
199 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

baum,  "and  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Lang,  and  you  can  talk  it  over  with  him." 

On  following  him  into  his  back  room  I  was  in- 
troduced to  a  pleasant-looking  young  officer  of 
about  twenty-five,  who  wore  the  uniform  and 
shoulder-straps  of  first  lieutenant  of  cavalry,  but 
whose  appearance  showed  evidences  of  dissipa- 
tion. He  seemed  pleased  to  find  a  man  who  un- 
derstood Uncle  Sam's  ways  of  transacting  business, 
and  still  more  gratified  when  I  told  him  that  I 
thought  possibly  I  could  find  means  to  relieve  him 
of  a  part,  if  not  all,  of  his  accountability;  which  he 
knew  meant  not  only  the  saving  of  so  many  dol- 
lars, but  would  prevent  an  official  investigation 
that  might  result  in  his  dismissal  from  the  service. 
I  told  him  I  could  not  promise  to  take  charge  of 
his  papers  and  begin  on  the  work  until  I  had  con- 
sulted my  partners.  He  would  pay  me  a  hundred 
dollars,  he  said,  to  make  the  effort  and  do  what  I 
could  for  him,  and  two  hundred  if  I  succeeded  in 
clearing  him  of  all  his  accountability  and  put  his 
company  papers  in  good  shape,  so  that  his  com- 
pany clerk  could  thereafter  keep  them  straight. 

I  promised  him  that  I  would  return  in  a  day  or 
two  probably  prepared  to  go  to  work  on  his  ac- 
counts. This  so  pleased  him  that  he  called  for  a 
bottle  of  champagne,  in  which,  however,  I  de- 
clined joining  him  and  retired,  leaving  him  and 
Weisselbaum  drinking  the  wine. 

Jack  and  I  had  seen  enough  of  the  rawness  of 
200 


VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

these  volunteers  to  fully  corroborate  Tom's  re- 
ports, and  as  we  drove  back  to  camp  I  informed 
my  comrade  of  the  proposition  I  had  received  for 
straightening  out  the  tangles  in  which  the  lieuten- 
ant had  involved  himself. 

"How  long's  it  going  to  take  you?"  he  asked. 

"About  two  or  three  weeks,  I  think,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  of  course  we'll  let  you  off  for  that  long, 
in  consideration  of  the  big  pay  you'll  be  getting." 

When  we  got  to  camp  and  I  had  stated  the 
proposition  to  Tom,  he  replied  promptly: 

"Jump  onto  it,  by  all  means.  You  won't  often 
find  such  chances  as  that  for  making  money  lay- 
in'  around  loose  on  the  plains  or  anywhere  else. 
That's  big  money  for  a  little  work.  Jack  an'  me'll 
give  you  a  leave  of  absence  long  enough  to  make 
yourself  a  nice  little  wad  on  the  side." 

"No,  Tom,"  I  answered.  "I  won't  have  it  that 
way.  We  have  agreed,  all  along,  that  this  is  a  full 
partnership  of  the  firm  of  Vance,  Flannigan  & 
Peck  and  that  whatever  we  make  or  lose  we  are 
to  share  equally.  Jack  insisted  on  this  rule  when 
he  captured  Black  Prince,  and  I  shall  insist  that 
whatever  I  make  on  this  work  shall  be  turned  into 
the  general  fund." 

"Well,  suit  yourself  about  it,"  said  Tom  indif- 
ferently; "any  way  to  keep  peace  in  the  family. 
We'll  call  it  detached  service  you're  on,  then,  in- 
stead of  a  leave  of  absence." 

The  matter  being  settled,  next  day  I  rode  Prince 
20 1 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

over  to  the  fort  and  began  looking  up  material  to 
begin  the  work  in  hand.  By  searching  the  ad- 
jutant's office  and  quartermaster's  store  I  found 
the  requisite  blanks  and  books  for  opening  up  a 
full  set  of  company  accounts,  including  muster 
and  pay  rolls,  for  I  found  the  lieutenant  had  little 
or  nothing  in  the  way  of  papers  except  the  invoices 
of  property  he  had  received.  Having  duly  estab- 
lished an  office  in  one  of  Lang's  rooms  and  got 
everything  ready  for  business,  I  said  to  the  lieu- 
tenant: 

"Now,  Mr.  Lang,  in  order  that  you  may  get 
the  full  benefit  of  my  services  in  this  work,  it  is 
best  that  you  have  your  first  sergeant  and  com- 
pany clerk  in  attendance  here  whenever  they  can 
be  spared  from  their  other  duties,  and  let  me  be 
instructing  them,  so  that  they  can  continue  the 
work  after  I  get  things  straightened  out  for  them." 

"A  good  idea,"  he  admitted.  "I'll  go  over  to 
his  office  and  have  a  chat  with  the  sergeant  about 
it,  and  if  he  thinks  he'd  like  to  learn  your  style 
of  keeping  accounts  I'll  invite  him  to  come  over 
and  see  how  you  do  it  and  bring  his  clerk  along." 

"Why,  lieutenant,"  I  said  in  some  surprise  at 
this  evidence  of  slack  discipline,  "I  thought  you 
were  in  command  of  the  company." 

"So  I  am;  so  I  am.     Why?" 

"Well,  in  that  case,  it's  your  place  to  order  the 
attendance  of  your  sergeant  and  clerk  and  their 
place  to  obey  promptly." 

202 


VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

"Yes,  yes.  That's  the  way  you  do  in  the  regu- 
lars, I  suppose;  but,  you  know,  we  ain't  so  par- 
ticular in  the  volunteers,  and  I  find  it's  best  to 
keep  on  good  terms  with  my  first  sergeant  'cause 
he'll  make  trouble  for  me  if  I  cross  him." 

"Well,  excuse  me;  I  forgot  myself,"  I  replied 
with  ill-concealed  disgust.  "I  wasn't  employed 
by  you  to  teach  you  discipline.  But  if  you  can 
persuade  your  sergeant  to  come  over,  I'll  see  if  I 
can  interest  him  in  these  papers." 

But  the  sergeant  refused  to  take  instructions 
from  "one  of  them  swell-headed  regulars  who 
think  they  know  it  all."  The  company  clerk, 
however,  cheerfully  placed  himself  under  my  tute- 
lage and  picked  up  the  work  rapidly. 

By  taking  invoices  of  the  property  Lieutenant 
Lang  had  on  hand  and  comparing  them  with  the 
invoices  of  what  he  had  received,  I  soon  found 
what  was  deficient.  I  then  set  his  men  to  work 
looking  about  the  post  and  gathering  up,  from 
among  the  rubbish  and  castaway  property  aban- 
doned by  the  outgoing  garrison,  every  old  article 
of  quartermaster's  and  ordnance  stores  and  camp 
and  garrison  equipage  that  could  be  found.  I 
then  asked  the  lieutenant  to  call  on  the  command- 
ing officer  for  a  board  of  survey,  who  inspected 
and  condemned  the  stuff  and  ordered  it  burned, 
thereby  relieving  Lang  of  his  accountability  for  it. 

There  was  still  a  considerable  shortage  of  arms 
and  things  that  I  could  not  pick  up  about  the  post 

203 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

and  get  condemned,  but,  on  learning  that  this  com- 
pany had  been  engaged  in  a  skirmish  with  the 
rebels  in  Missouri  recently,  I  covered  a  consider- 
able deficit  on  the  returns  as  "lost  in  action,"  on 
the  affidavits  of  soldiers,  and  accounted  for  some 
other  stuff  as  legitimately  "worn  out  or  expended 
in  the  public  service/' 

By  these  and  other  methods  usually  resorted  to 
in  the  regular  service  to  cover  deficiencies  I  soon 
had  Lieutenant  Lang's  accountability  reduced  to 
the  property  he  actually  had  on  hand;  and,  while 
doing  so,  instructed  his  company  clerk  so  that 
thereafter  he  could  easily  keep  the  accounts  in  safe 
shape. 

My  work  for  Lang  attracted  considerable  at- 
tention from  the  other  company  commanders  and 
they  soon  got  to  dropping  in  to  consult  me  in  re- 
gard to  making  out  papers  and  all  sorts  of  mili- 
tary matters. 

At  the  expiration  of  my  contract,  Lieutenant 
Lang  cheerfully  paid  me  the  two  hundred  dollars— 
which  I  deposited  with  Weisselbaum  to  the  credit 
of  the  firm — and  expressed  himself  as  glad  to  get 
out  of  his  recent  dilemma  so  cheaply. 

While  at  this  work  I  was  often  one  of  the  busiest 
men  about  the  post.  These  officers,  though  inex- 
perienced, were  gentlemanly  fellows,  and  not  hav- 
ing had  that  regular  army  legend  ground  into  them 
about  the  impassable  gulf  between  the  enlisted 
man  and  the  commissioned  officer,  though  know- 

204 


VOLUNTEER  TROOPS  AT  LARNED 

ing  that  I  had  but  recently  been  a  private  soldier, 
treated  me  as  an  equal.  Even  the  major  com- 
manding often  consulted  me  on  technical  affairs, 
and  offered  to  use  his  influence  to  procure  me  a 
commission  in  the  regiment  if  I  would  join  his 
command,  which  kind  offer  I  declined  with  thanks. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  bind  myself  to 
Uncle  Sam  again,  though — after  this  wolf  hunting 
campaign — I  planned  to  enter  the  service  as  a 
scout  or  wagon-master  or  in  some  civilian  capac- 
ity that  would  give  me  more  freedom  than  as  a 
soldier  or  officer. 


205 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

TOURING  the  time  I  had  been  at  work  on 
*^*  Lieutenant  Lang's  papers  there  had  been  an- 
other heavy  snow,  but  it  had  soon  passed  off. 
Tom  had  come  over  to  the  fort  once  or  twice,  re- 
porting all  serene  at  Camp  Coyotelope;  and  about 
the  time  I  had  finished  my  job  and  was  preparing 
to  return  to  wolf  skinning,  Wild  Bill  and  John 
Adkins  came  into  the  post,  returning  from  the 
main  Kiowa  camp  by  way  of  old  To  hausen's  vil- 
lage on  Walnut  Creek. 

"When  are  you  going  over  to  Camp  Coyote- 
lope?"  asked  Bill  after  first  greetings. 

"To-morrow  morning,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  I've  got  to  make  my  report  to  the  com- 
manding officer  an*  turn  in  my  pack-mule,"  said 
the  scout,  "an*  if  there's  nothing  special  for  me 
to  do  here  right  away  I  reckon  I'll  ride  over  with 
you  an'  take  a  few  square  meals  with  the  boys." 

"All  right,"  I  replied.  "I'll  be  glad  to  have  you 
go  along  with  me.  Will  Adkins  come,  too  ? " 

"No.  He  says  he's  got  to  go  back  to  Rath's 
ranch  in  the  morning,  soon  as  he  can  get  his 

206 


BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

voucher  from  the  quartermaster  for  this  trip  an* 
get  it  cashed  at  Weisselbaum's." 

"So  this  new  quartermaster  is  short  of  green- 
backs and  has  to  pay  off  in  vouchers,  hey?" 

"Yes,  an*  Weisselbaum  only  discounts  'em 
twenty-five  cents  on  the  dollar.  But  I  won't  sell 
my  voucher  at  any  such  robbery  figures.  I  don't 
need  the  money  very  bad  here,  an'  so  I'll  just  let 
it  stand  till  the  quartermaster  gets  the  funds,  or 
if  he  don't  get  the  truck  by  spring  I'll  take  my 
vouchers  to  Fort  Leavenworth  where  I  can  get 
all  they  call  for." 

Finding  nothing  requiring  his  immediate  at- 
tendance at  the  post,  Bill  easily  obtained  permis- 
sion to  go  over  to  our  camp,  notifying  the  quarter- 
master where  he  could  be  found  in  case  he  was 
needed. 

As  we  rode  along  he  told  me  about  his  trip  to 
Satank's  village. 

"As  I  expected,  we  picked  up  the  Kiowas'  trail 
over  on  the  Smoky  Hill,  followed  it  up,  an'  found 
'em  in  a  snug-timbered  camp  over  on  the  Solomon. 
They'd  moved  to  this  camp  from  another  one  a 
few  miles  up  the  river  since  the  blizzard,  because 
while  that  big  snow  was  on  the  ground  they'd  had 
to  chop  down  all  the  cottonwood-trees  about  that 
camp  to  furnish  feed  for  their  ponies  and  in  case  of 
another  big  snow  catching  'em  in  the  same  camp, 
the  feed  there  would  have  been  pretty  scarce.  An' 
they'd  just  about  got  settled  down  in  the  new  camp 

207 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

when  this  last  snow  come  on.  Me  and  Adkins 
were  in  luck,  too,  for  this  last  snow  come  next  day 
after  we  reached  the  Injun  camp;  an*  during  all 
the  time  it  lay  on  the  ground  me  and  John  were 
making  ourselves  as  agreeable  an'  comfortable  as 
possible  in  ol'  Satank's  lodge.  I  knew  what  a 
sour  oY  cuss  he  is,  an*  the  best  way  to  get  on  the 
good  side  of  him  an*  find  out  what  he  is  up  to 
was  to  go  right  to  his  tepee,  an'  let  on  that  we'd 
come  to  pay  him  a  special  visit. 

"We  found  that  the  Injuns  didn't  have  much 
of  anything  to  eat  but  meat,  so  we  brought  out 
our  sugar  an'  coffee  an'  hardtack  an'  bacon  an' 
treated  the  ol'  man  an'  his  family  to  some  extra 
good  grub — for  them;  an'  I'd  took  along  some 
beads  an'  colored  handkerchiefs  an'  trinkets  for  the 
women  an'  youngsters.  But,  sir,  that  durned  old 
rascal  would  eat  my  chuck  an'  take  presents,  all 
right,  but  when  I'd  try  to  pump  him  he  was  the 
most  ignorant  Injun  you  ever  saw — I  couldn't  get 
a  thing  out  of  him.  But  then  I  didn't  expect  to 
find  out  much  from  Satank  himself,  for  I  know 
him  of  old. 

"I  made  friends  with  Satanta  and  Big  Tree,  too, 
an'  gave  them  some  presents,  an'  now  an'  then 
invited  'em  over  to  headquarters  to  smoke  an' 
eat  an'  drink  coffee  with  us,  but  they  were  pretty 
foxy,  too,  and  didn't  seem  to  know  anything  when 
I  tried  the  pump  on  them.  So  when  I  found  the 
head  men  were  so  close-mouthed  I  dropped  them 

208 


BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

an'  let  on  as  though  I  wasn't  seeking  for  informa- 
tion; but  I  made  myself  solid  with  the  women  by 
making  them  presents  of  a  lot  of  little  trinkets, 
an*  I  knew  if  I  went  about  it  in  an  offhand  way 
they'd  tell  me  all  they  knew,  for,  you  know,  I  can 
talk  their  language  just  like  a  Kiowa. 

"  It  pleases  them  women  for  a  white  man  to  take 
notice  of  'em  an'  talk  to  'em  an'  be  sociable  like, 
for  their  own  men  don't  pay  'em  much  atten- 
tion. 

"I  soon  found  out  about  all  the  women  knew, 
which  wasn't  much,  however;  but  from  what  I 
picked  up  amongst  'em,  an'  from  the  general 
signs,  the  head  men  ain't  a-feeling  very  friendly 
toward  the  whites,  an'  as  soon  as  grass  comes  in 
the  spring  I  suspect  we'll  have  trouble  with  'em." 

"Do  you  think  they'll  go  on  the  war-path, 
Bill? "I  asked. 

"No,  I  don't  think  they'll  go  to  war  openly  or 
in  a  body,  but  they'll  probably  scout  around  in 
little  bands,  watchin'  their  chances  an'  doing  a 
little  mischief  here  an'  there  on  the  sly,  whenever 
they  see  a  good  chance  to  dodge  in,  hit  a  lick,  an' 
dodge  out  again  without  making  an  open  rupture. 
But  they  promised  to  come  down  to  Fort  Larned, 
as  soon  as  the  grass  begins  to  come  in  the  spring, 
to  have  a  powwow  with  the  officers  an'  Injun 
agent,  'cause  there's  a  chance  of  some  presents  in 
that,  an'  they're  always  ready  to  take  all  they  can 
get  an'  more,  too." 

209 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"What  seems  to  be  their  principal  grievance 
against  the  white  men?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  it's  the  old  song  about  the  white  men 
killing  off  their  game.  But,  then,  we  all  know 
that's  just  an  excuse,  for  the  game  on  the  plains 
is  plenty  enough  for  all  an'  what  little  the  whites 
get  away  with  ain't  missed.  Of  course,  if  they 
were  to  come  around  here  an'  see  how  many  buffalo 
bones  you  fellows  are  leaving  on  the  prairie  they 
might  think  you  were  getting  more  than  your 
share.  But  you've  got  just  as  much  right  to  kill 
buffalo  an'  wolves,  or  any  other  game,  as  the  In- 
juns have.  Anyway,  it  ain't  likely  they'll  get  down 
this  way  before  grass  comes,  an'  you  fellows'll  be 
done  skinning  wolves  an'  gone  before  that  time." 

"I  hope  so,"  I  replied.  "I  have  no  desire  to 
renew  my  acquaintance  with  Satank.  How  about 
old  To  hausen,  Bill;  is  he  still  camped  at  the  same 
place?" 

"Yes,  his  band  was  still  camped  about  twenty 
or  twenty-five  miles  down  Walnut  Creek  from 
your  camp;  but  To  hausen  was  getting  ready  to 
move  up  your  way,  too,  an'  I  reckon  by  this  time 
he's  moved.  I  told  him  about  you  fellows  a-poi- 
soning  wolves  and  that  you  were  particular  friends 
of  mine,  an'  asked  him  not  to  move  up  close 
enough  to  you  to  bother  your  work,  an'  he  prom- 
ised me  he  would  keep  far  enough  away  so's  not  to 
trouble  you.  He's  a  pretty  good  ol'  Injun,  To 
hausen  is,  an'  he's  always  been  a  good  friend  of 

210 


BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

mine,  an'  I'm  sure  he'll  not  let  any  of  his  people 
interfere  with  you.  Some  of  his  outfit'll  be  apt 
to  look  you  up  in  a  few  days,  an'  if  they  come  to 
see  you  you  must  treat  'em  well." 

"Of  course  we  will,"  I  replied,  "for  we  want  to 
keep  on  good  terms  with  them." 

At  Camp  Coyotelope,  which  we  reached  in  time 
for  dinner,  Bill  had  to  repeat  to  Tom  and  Jack 
all  he  had  told  me  about  his  trip  to  the  Kiowa  vil- 
lage. During  the  afternoon  we  lounged  about 
camp  and  at  the  approach  of  evening  Jack  and  I 
saddled  up  and  made  the  round  of  the  wolf  baits, 
putting  out  fresh  strychnine  for  the  night,  and  re- 
turned to  camp  in  time  to  help  demolish  an  excel- 
lent supper. 

That  evening  Tom  suggested  to  the  scout: 

"Bill,  while  you're  here,  suppose  you  an*  me 
ride  down  to  ol'  To  hausen's  camp  to-morrow 
to  see  where  he  is  an'  make  sure  that  he  ain't 
a-crowding  on  our  huntin'-ground — what  do  you 
say?" 

"It's  a  whack,  Tom;  I'll  go  you!"  replied  Bill, 
"an'  we'll  have  a  fair  understanding  with  the  ol' 
man  about  how  far  he's  to  allow  his  people  to 
range  up  this  way." 

In  the  morning  they  saddled  up  and  started  to 
go  to  the  Indian  camp,  but  to  our  surprise  Bill  and 
Tom  were  back  at  camp  by  noon,  just  as  Jack  and 
I  were  getting  ready  for  dinner. 

"Why,  what  brought  you  back  so  soon?"  I 
asked  as  they  rode  up  and  dismounted. 

211 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Well,"  replied  Tom,  as  they  began  unsaddling, 
"we  found  their  camp  only  about  eight  miles 
down  the  creek — a  little  closer  than  I  like  to  have 
'em,  but  the  Injuns  promised  that  they  wouldn't 
hunt  up  this  way  any  farther  or  do  anything  to 
drive  off  the  game  in  our  range;  but  what  brought 
us  back  so  soon  was  that  when  we  got  there  we 
found  ol'  To  hausen  sick  in  bed,  an'  I  think  he's 
threatened  with  a  severe  spell  of  pneumonia;  an' 
after  having  a  friendly  talk  with  his  people  and 
watching  the  ol'  man's  symptoms,  I  made  up  my 
mind  what  was  the  matter  with  him,  and  I  con- 
cluded that  I'd  hurry  right  back  to  camp  and  get 
some  medicine  for  him  and  then  go  back  and  try 
to  fetch  the  old  man  out  of  it.  I'm  sure  he's  got 
a  serious  case  of  lung  fever,  and  if  something  ain't 
done  to  head  it  off  pretty  pronto  he'll  go  up  the 
spout.  I  learned  a  good  deal  about  doctoring 
when  I  was  hospital  steward,  an'  I  think  I've  got 
everything  except  one  that  I  need  for  the  treat- 
ment of  this  case  in  my  little  medicine-chest. 
Bill's  going  back  to  Fort  Larned  after  dinner,  and 
I  want  you  to  go  with  him  and  bring  out  the  med- 
icine that  I'm  lacking.  You  can  go  over  to  the 
fort  this  afternoon  and  get  the  stuff  an'  come 
back  to-morrow  forenoon  and  then  bring  it  down 
to  the  Injun  camp  to  me  in  the  afternoon;  for  I'll 
go  right  back  after  dinner  and  go  to  work  on  the 
old  man  and  try  to  head  off  that  fever  before  it 
gets  too  strong  a  hold  on  him." 

212 


BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

As  we  entered  the  dugout  and  sat  down  to  din- 
ner I  thought  to  ask: 

"What  medicine  is  it  that  you  want  me  to  get, 
Tom  ?  You  forgot  to  tell  me  the  name  of  it." 

With  a  mysterious  wink  at  me  when  Jack  was 
not  looking,  he  answered: 

"I'll  write  the  name  of  it  down  on  a  piece  of 

paper   after   dinner.     You'd   forget   it   if  I   told 

» » 
you. 

When  we  went  out  to  saddle  up  after  dinner, 
leaving  Jack  to  clean  up  the  dishes,  Tom  said: 

"The  medicine  I  want  you  to  get  at  the  fort  is 
nothing  but  a  pint  of  commissary  whiskey,  but  I 
didn't  want  to  mention  it  before  Jack.  The  doc- 
tors use  it  in  pneumonia  as  a  stimulant,  diluted, 
an'  given  in  tablespoonful  doses.  I've  got  every- 
thing else  I  need,  and  I'll  take  my  little  medicine- 
chest  along  with  me  down  to  the  Injun  camp  in 
case  there  should  be  other  sick  ones  that  I'd  want 
something  for."  Then  he  added:  "You'd  better 
take  Prince  to  ride  over  to  the  fort  and  back.  I 
rode  him  down  to  the  camp,  but  he'll  be  good  for 
your  trip.  I'll  ride  ol'  Vinegar  down  to  the  camp 
this  time;  an'  when  you  get  back  here  to-morrow 
you  can  leave  Prince  here  an'  ride  the  gray  mare 
or  one  of  the  mules  down  to  the  camp.  By  the 
way,  while  I  think  of  it,  I  must  take  along  a  couple 
of  candles  an'  a  few  more  matches;  for  I'll  have  to 
be  getting  up  in  the  night  'tendin'  to  the  old  man, 
an*  there's  no  such  thing  as  a  light  to  be  had  in  an 

213 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Injun  lodge  without  a  body  goes  to  the  trouble  of 
starting  up  a  blaze  in  the  fire. 

"I've  got  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  that  old 
medicine-man  that's  doctoring  the  old  chief  now," 
said  Tom;  "and  I'd  like  to  teach  him  something  if 
I  could." 

Soon  we  were  ready  and  started,  Bill  and  I  can- 
tering off  on  the  trail  while  Tom  struck  out  down 
the  creek. 

On  arriving  at  Fort  Larned,  knowing  that  Lieu- 
tenant Lang  always  kept  a  demijohn  of  whiskey 
in  his  quarters,  I  procured  a  pint  bottle  of  the 
"medicine"  Tom  desired  and  spent  the  night  at 
his  quarters. 

Just  before  going  to  the  officers'  mess  for  supper 
with  Lieutenant  Lang  that  evening,  thinking  that 
it  would  be  an  interesting  trip  for  him,  I  had  sug- 
gested to  him  that  he  go  out  to  our  camp  and  see 
something  of  the  Kiowas  with  whom  later  he 
might  have  some  dealings.  He  declined  to  go  on 
the  ground  that  the  weather  was  wintry  and  the 
ride  a  long  one. 

Captain  Saunders,  who  was  present,  expressed 
surprise  that  Lieutenant  Lang  did  not  jump  at  the 
chance  and  said  to  me: 

"Mr.  Peck,  if  I  can  get  leave  of  absence  from 
the  major,  may  I  accompany  you  on  this  trip  to 
the  Indian  camp?" 

"Certainly,  captain,"  I  replied.  "I'll  be  de- 
lighted to  have  you  go  along." 

214 


BILL  RETURNS  FROM  HIS  SCOUT 

The  captain  joined  us  later  and  told  me  that  he 
had  easily  obtained  the  desired  permission,  but 
asked  me  to  say  nothing  about  it  to  other  com- 
pany officers,  lest  more  of  them  should  wish  to  go, 
for  the  major  didn't  think  it  best  to  spare  more 
than  one  on  such  an  errand. 

The  next  morning  we  set  out  and,  after  a  long, 
cold  ride,  reached  Camp  Coyotelope.  During  the 
whole  ride  the  captain  kept  plying  me  with  ques- 
tions about  our  past  frontier  service,  evidently 
wishing  to  gain  all  the  information  he  could  about 
his  new  line  of  duty.  He  was  a  very  pleasant  and 
gentlemanly,  young  man,  and  although  ignorant  of 
military  usage,  he  evinced  a  commendable  eager- 
ness to  inform  and  qualify  himself  for  his  position. 


215 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP 

"1T7E  reached  the  dugout  just  before  noon,  and 
^  *  after  unsaddling,  watering,  and  feeding  our 
horses  and  partaking  of  a  good  dinner  that  Jack 
had  prepared  we  saddled  up  again.  I  now  rode 
the  gray  mustang,  as  Tom  had  suggested,  and  on 
one  of  our  mules  packed  my  bedding  for  the  use 
of  Captain  Saunders  and  myself  at  the  Indian 
camp.  We  struck  out  down  the  creek  for  the 
Kiowa  camp,  I  leading  the  mule  and  the  captain 
bringing  up  the  rear.  This  kind  of  campaigning 
was  a  revelation  to  Captain  Saunders  and  seemed 
to  interest  him  greatly. 

At  the  Indian  camp  Tom  was  anxiously  awaiting 
me,  and  seemed  surprised  to  see  me  accompanied 
by  the  officer,  whom  I  introduced,  explaining  the 
occasion  of  his  visit. 

Under  the  impulse  of  his  long  and  strict  mili- 
tary training,  Tom  came  to  "attention"  and  sa- 
luted and  seemed  somewhat  surprised  at  the 
captain's  proffered  hand.  In  the  regular  service 
hand-shaking  between  an  officer  and  a  soldier  or 
ex-soldier  would  be  considered  a  breach  of  army 
etiquette.  Quickly  comprehending  the  situation, 

216 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP 

Tom  grasped  the  extended  hand  and  thereafter 
appeared  to  feel  on  terms  of  perfect  equality  with 
the  officer. 

"I  can't  allow  you  to  see  old  To  hausen,"  Tom 
explained,  "he's  too  sick  to  see  company;  an*  I 
can't  devote  much  time  to  your  entertainment 
myself,  captain,  but  I'll  tell  the  Injuns  to  try  an' 
make  your  visit  agreeable;  an'  you  an'  Peck'll 
have  to  get  along  the  best  you  can." 

Tom  turned  to  an  old  Indian,  who,  he  said,  was 
next  in  rank  to  To  hausen,  and  explained  to  him 
in  Mexican  who  we  were  and  the  object  of  our 
visit.  The  old  warrior  then  in  a  loud  voice  made 
an  announcement  to  the  camp  in  the  Kiowa 
tongue,  after  which  he  repeated  to  Tom  what  he 
had  told  his  people. 

"This  old  fellow,"  explained  Tom  to  the  cap- 
tain, "is  named  Lobo.  He  told  the  Indians  that 
I  said:  'These  two  white  men  are  our  good  friends. 
One  of  them  is  a  captain  of  soldiers  from  the  fort. 
They  heard  that  our  chief  was  very  sick  and  they 
have  come  all  the  way  from  the  fort  to  bring  some 
more  good  medicine  for  To  hausen.  They  are 
good  men  an',  Kiowas,  you  must  be  good  to  'em. 
Our  camp  an'  all  that  we  have  is  at  their  service. 
Make  them  welcome,  Kiowas.' 

"Now,"  continued  Tom,  "as  Lobo  says,  'the 
camp  is  yours.'  He  has  given  orders  to  his  women 
to  unsaddle  your  horses  an'  unpack  your  mule, 
an'  some  of  the  youngsters  will  drive  your  animals 

217 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

out  an'  put  'em  in  the  herd.  He  has  also  ordered 
the  women  to  clear  out  one  half  of  his  lodge  for 
your  use,  an'  your  saddles  an'  beddin'  will  be  car- 
ried in  an'  placed  there,  where  you  are  to  sleep. 
You  are  at  liberty  to  go  where  you  please  about 
the  camp,  enter  any  lodge  you  choose,  an'  you'll 
find  'em  all  friendly  and  agreeable;  an'  you  an' 
everything  you  have  will  be  perfectly  safe  so  long 
as  you  are  their  guest.  Now,  you'll  have  to  ex- 
cuse me,  for  I  must  go  to  my  patient." 

"By  the  way,  how  is  the  old  chief?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"Pretty  feeble.  His  age  is  against  him,  for  he 
must  be  up  in  the  seventies.  I'm  getting  the 
fever  pretty  well  under  control,  and  if  he  gets  no 
backset  I  think  I  can  pull  him  through.  I  have 
my  bed  close  by  him  an'  I  try  to  keep  the  lodge 
at  as  even  a  temperature  as  possible;  but  I  have 
to  do  most  everything  myself,  for  these  Injuns 
can't  be  made  to  savvy  how  to  take  care  of  the 
sick.  Now,  I  must  go." 

After  seeing  our  animals  sent  out  to  the  herd 
and  our  saddles  and  bedding  taken  into  Lobo's 
lodge,  we  went  inside,  spread  our  bed,  and  then 
took  a  stroll  about  camp.  Everything  here — the 
Indians,  their  dress  and  habits — was  new,  strange, 
and  deeply  interesting  to  Captain  Saunders,  who 
had  never  before  seen  a  wild  Indian. 

Noticing  To  hausen's  dilapidated  old  ambulance 
standing  near  his  lodge,  I  said: 

218 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA   CAMP 

"Captain,  do  you  see  that  old  government  am- 
bulance?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "and  I  have  been  wondering 
at  it  and  was  going  to  ask  you  if  many  of  the  In- 
dians have  such  vehicles?" 

"No.  I  don't  know  of  another  Indian  on  the 
plains  who  sports  an  ambulance  or  any  other 
wheeled  vehicle  to  ride  in.  I  must  tell  you  how 
he  came  by  this  one.  In  the  spring  of  '59  the 
Kiowas  were  becoming  restless,  and  disregarding 
the  warnings  and  advice  of  the  old  chief,  who  was 
always  friendly  to  the  whites,  they  were  inclined 
to  follow  the  lead  of  Satank,  who  is  always  un- 
friendly. They  were  threatening  to  go  on  the 
war-path.  Our  command  of  four  companies  of 
First  Cavalry,  under  Major  John  Sedgwick,  was 
sent  out  on  the  plains  from  Fort  Riley  with  orders 
to  range  along  the  Arkansas  River  to  try  to  keep 
the  Indians  in  subjection.  The  Pike's  Peak  gold 
excitement  was  at  its  height  then,  and  an  out- 
break of  the  Indians  would  be  a  serious  affair. 
Old  To  hausen  tried  hard  to  keep  the  Kiowas 
peaceable,  but  succeeded  in  holding  only  this  small 
band  of  about  a  hundred  warriors,  the  rest  of  the 
tribe  following  Satank.  To  hausen  often  visited 
our  camps  and  our  officers  often  gave  him  and 
his  adherents  presents.  Our  quartermaster,  Lieu- 
tenant James  B.  Mclntyre,  had  this  old  ambu- 
lance on  hand,  and,  as  it  was  about  played  out,  he 
got  it  condemned  by  a  board  and  was  thinking 

219 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

of  burning  it  to  get  rid  of  the  old  trap,  when  it 
occurred  to  him  to  make  a  present  of  it  to  To 
hausen  if  he  would  accept  it.  The  old  fellow 
was  very  much  pleased  to  think  of  riding  about  in 
such  a  rig  as  our  commanding  officer  sometimes 
used.  Lieutenant  Mclntyre  had  his  blacksmith 
put  the  old  rattletrap  in  serviceable  shape;  and 
then  put  harness  on  a  pair  of  the  old  chief's  mus- 
tangs and  had  them  broken  to  work  by  some  of 
the  soldiers  and  turned  the  outfit  over  to  To 
hausen.  But  neither  he  nor  any  of  his  men  could 
learn  to  use  the  lines  and,  after  a  few  efforts  they 
dispensed  with  the  lines  altogether,  and,  putting 
a  boy  on  each  bronco  of  the  team,  they  have  since 
navigated  the  ambulance  in  that  shape.  Indian- 
like,  they  generally  travel  at  a  gallop,  whether  the 
ground  is  smooth  or  rough,  and  often  break  some- 
thing, but  they  tie  it  up  with  rawhide  to  hold  the 
parts  together  till  they  can  get  to  Fort  Larned  or 
Fort  Lyon,  and  then  the  quartermasters  have 
their  men  patch  it  up  again  for  the  old  man." 

As  evening  approached  we  returned  to  the  home 
of  Lobo,  where  a  good  fire  burning  in  the  centre 
of  the  lodge  made  it  quite  comfortable  except  for 
the  smoke  that  nearly  blinded  us;  but  by  lying 
down  on  our  blankets  we  found  we  could  avoid 
this  discomfort. 

Tom  dropped  in  for  a  few  minutes  to  see  how 
we  were  getting  along  and  to  tell  us  that  under 
the  stimulating  influence  of  the  whiskey  I  had 

220 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP 

brought  the  old  chief  was  showing  a  decided 
improvement. 

Two  women  had  for  some  time  been  busy  cook- 
ing a  meat  stew  in  a  kettle  that  hung  over  the  fire. 
After  a  time  I  brought  out  and  gave  them  some 
coffee,  sugar,  and  hardtack  that  I  had  brought 
in  my  saddle  pocket  to  add  to  the  meal.  After 
lifting  the  big  kettle  off  the  fire,  the  women,  with 
a  great  horn  spoon,  ladled  out  a  dishful  of  the 
stew  to  each  of  the  guests  first,  and  then  to  Lobo. 

We  ate  hungrily.  Lobo  was  the  last  one  to 
"throw  up  the  sponge"  and  announce  his  perfect 
satisfaction  by  a  prolonged  Indian  grunt,  and 
then  as  he  leaned  back  against  a  pile  of  bedding, 
he  added:  "Muy  wano!" 

Before  eating  I  had  handed  a  plug  of  tobacco 
to  Lobo,  who  had  whittled  off  enough  to  fill  a 
great  red-stone  pipe  and  then  returned  the  plug 
to  me.  I  tried  to  induce  him  to  keep  the  plug, 
but  he  declined.  As  Tom  had  intimated  would 
be  the  case,  a  number  of  men  dropped  in  after 
supper  to  call  on  Lobo  and  his  white  visitors,  and 
the  big  red  pipe  was  then  brought  out,  lit  with  a 
coal  of  fire,  and  put  on  its  travels,  each  taking  a 
puff  and  passing  it  to  the  next. 

The  Indians  evidently  appreciated  the  free 
tobacco  I  was  furnishing,  for  the  pipe  was  soon 
smoked  out,  refilled,  and  emptied  again  and  again, 
till  all  were  fully  sated.  After  this  some  talk  was 
indulged  in,  and  then  the  visitors  went  out  one 

221 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

by  one,  till  only  the  captain  and  I  and  Lobo's 
family  remained.  Saunders  and  I  soon  after  re- 
moved our  coats  and  boots  and  turned  in. 

During  the  evening  the  woman  had  carried  in 
several  armfuls  of  wood  and  piled  it  convenient 
to  the  fire  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge,  and,  the 
weather  being  quite  cold,  she  got  up  several  times 
during  the  night  to  replenish  the  fire. 

Saunders  and  I  were  both  awake  by  daylight, 
but,  as  our  host  and  his  family  and  the  dogs  still 
seemed  soundly  sleeping,  we  kept  our  bed  for 
a  time  to  avoid  disturbing  them.  Finally,  old 
Lobo  crawled  out  and,  wrapping  his  buffalo  robe 
around  him,  went  outside  the  lodge.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  heard  him,  in  a  loud  voice,  haranguing 
the  camp,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  camp  was 
all  astir. 

After  breakfast,  on  telling  Lobo  that  we  wished 
to  return  to  our  camp,  two  of  his  boys  drove  the 
herd  into  camp  and  roped  our  animals,  which 
were  quickly  saddled  and  packed. 

I  took  the  remains  of  the  plug  of  tobacco  and 
the  packages  of  sugar,  coffee,  and  hardtack  out 
of  our  saddle  pockets,  carried  them  into  Lobo's 
lodge,  and  laid  them  down. 

Captain  Saunders,  feeling  disposed  to  reward 
the  two  boys  for  taking  care  of  our  animals,  of- 
fered each  a  silver  half  dollar.  Their  young  eyes 
brightened  at  sight  of  the  money,  for  they  knew  it 
would  buy  them  something  nice  at  the  trader's 

222 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP 

store,  but  a  hesitating  glance  at  Lobo  seemed  to 
decide  them  to  refuse  the  proffered  gifts,  and  with 
a  pleasant,  "No  quiero,  serlor"  ("Don't  want 
it,  sir"),  which  their  looks  belied,  they  turned 
away. 

"Give  them  to  me,  captain,"  I  said,  "and  I'll 
place  them  where  they  won't  reject  the  money." 
I  carried  the  two  silver  pieces  into  the  lodge  and 
put  them  with  the  other  things.  No  objection  was 
made  to  my  leaving  these  presents  where  they 
could  be  found,  but  Indian  hospitality  forbade 
them  openly  to  accept  gifts  from  a  guest. 

At  dinner  Jack  proposed  that  Captain  Saunders 
and  he  should  go  out  that  afternoon  and  kill  some 
buffalo  and  put  out  some  poison.  The  captain 
was  eager  to  go,  for  he  was  quite  without  experi- 
ence in  this  form  of  sport.  After  Saunders  was 
armed,  equipped,  and  mounted  he  and  Jack  rode 
away  and  I  turned  to  and  attended  to  the  dinner 
dishes. 

It  was  near  sunset  when  they  got  back  to  camp, 
reporting  that  they  had  killed  and  poisoned  some 
buffalo,  and  Captain  Saunders  had  killed  also  an 
antelope,  the  carcass  of  which  he  had  tied  on  be- 
hind his  saddle  and  brought  in. 

"L'ave  the  captain  alone  for  the  makin's  of  a 
plainsman,"  exclaimed  Jack  as  he  dismounted 
and  began  unsaddling.  "He'll  need  but  little 
more  instruction  from  any  of  us.  He  catches 
on  quick.  He'll  soon  be  like  an  old  hand  at  the 

223 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

business.  An'  that  horse  of  his  is  all  right,  too. 
Ain't  a  bit  afeard  of  a  buffalo  an'  goes  at  'em  like 
he  was  used  to  it." 

"Possibly  the  captain  has  had  more  experience 
of  this  kind,"  I  suggested  inquiringly,  "than  we 
have  supposed." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Saunders.  "This  is  ac- 
tually my  first  glimpse  of  frontier  life;  but  I  have 
always  been  interested  in  such  matters  and  have 
read  everything  I  could  find  on  the  subject  and 
have  talked  to  old  plainsmen  and  in  that  way 
have  acquired  some  ideas  of  such  things.  I  wish 
I  could  stay  with  you  a  week  or  two  and  hunt 
buffalo  and  antelope,  for  it  is  noble  sport;  but  this 
isn't  what  Uncle  Sam  is  paying  me  for,  and  I  must 
go  back  to  Fort  Larned  to-morrow.  Still,  I  con- 
sider this  time  well  spent,  for  the  experience  I  am 
getting  out  here  is  certainly  valuable  to  one  who 
expects  to  do  service  on  the  plains." 

"We  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  your  company,  cap- 
tain," I  replied;  "but,  if  you  are  going  in  to-mor- 
row, why  not  take  your  antelope  along  as  a  trophy 
of  the  trip  ?  The  weight  will  not  be  much,  and  we 
can  fit  it  behind  the  cantle  of  your  saddle  and  tie 
it  on  so  it  will  ride  nicely." 

"Yes,"  added  Jack,  "but  that  will  have  to  be 
done  to-night,  for  it'll  freeze  hard  before  morning, 
and  then  you  can't  fit  it  on.  I'll  fix  it  now." 

He  placed  Saunders's  saddle  upon  some  sacks  of 
grain,  bent  the  antelope  carcass  to  fit  snugly  be- 

224 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  KIOWA  CAMP 

hind  the  cantle,  tying  the  feet  down  to  the  cinch 
rings,  and  left  it  to  freeze  in  that  position. 

After  supper  Jack  played  the  fiddle  awhile,  and 
we  sang  some  songs;  but  Saunders  seemed  more 
interested  in  drawing  us  out  to  tell  of  our  soldier 
experiences  on  the  frontier  and  kept  us  yarn 
spinning  till  late  bedtime.  In  the  morning,  after 
breakfast,  he  struck  the  trail  for  Fort  Larned. 


225 


CHAPTER  XX 
WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS 

TjX)R  the  next  week  or  two,  although  the  weather 
-*•  had  turned  stormy,  Jack  and  I  put  in  all  the 
time  we  could  at  poisoning  and  skinning  wolves. 
It  was  now  getting  well  along  in  February — near- 
ing  the  close  of  the  season  for  taking  pelts.  We 
had  already  taken  about  twenty-five  hundred 
and  were  anxious  to  make  our  winter's  catch  an 
even  three  thousand  before  quitting. 

Tom's  patient,  old  To  hausen,  had  so  far  re- 
covered that  Tom  had  returned  to  our  camp,  but 
still  made  an  occasional  visit  to  the  Kiowa  vil- 
lage, where,  on  account  of  his  success  in  treating 
the  old  chief  and  others,  his  services  as  medicine- 
man were  now  much  sought  by  the  afflicted  In- 
dians, to  the  utter  neglect  of  old  Broken  Nose, 
their  own  medicine-man,  who  seemed  jealous  of 
Tom's  popularity. 

One  day  Jack  had  gone  out  alone,  riding  old 
Vinegar  the  buckskin  bronco,  to  kill  some  buffalo, 
and  in  a  short  time  he  came  back  to  camp  afoot, 
carrying  his  saddle  and  bridle. 

"What's  happened?  Where's  Vinegar?"  we 
asked  anxiously. 

226 


WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS 

"Vinegar's  done  for — dead,"  he  answered  as  he 
threw  down  the  saddle  and  bridle,  "an'  I'm  in  big 
luck  myself  to  be  here  to  tell  it.  It  was  this  way: 
I  was  chasin'  a  bull,  an'  shot  him  but  had  got  too 
close  or  the  bronco  was  too  slow  turnin'  to  get 
away — anyway  the  bull  got  his  head  under  Vine- 
gar an'  heaved  both  him  an'  me  into  the  air,  an'  we 
come  down  in  a  heap;  but  by  good  luck  the  buffalo 
went  on  without  stopping  to  make  further  fight, 
or  he  might  easy  have  finished  both  of  us.  I 
scrambled  to  my  feet,  Vinegar  still  lying  where  he 
fell,  with  his  paunch  ripped  open  an'  entrails  hang- 
ing out.  With  a  great  effort  he  got  up  onto  his 
feet,  but  his  insides  were  hanging  to  the  ground, 
and  there  he  stood  a-looking  at  me  pleading  like 
an'  a-groaning  as  much  as  to  ask  me  to  put  him 
out  of  his  misery,  which  was  all  I  could  do  for 
him;  so  I  put  my  pistol  to  his  head  and  finished 
him." 

On  Tom's  next  trip  to  the  Kiowa  camp,  on 
mentioning  to  old  To  hausen  the  bronco's  being 
killed,  the  old  chief  had  his  herd  driven  in,  and 
selecting  a  good  pony — one  he  had  used  in  his 
ambulance  and  so  knew  its  working  qualities — he 
insisted  on  Tom's  taking  it  to  replace  Vinegar. 

About  this  time,  the  weather  having  apparently 
settled  for  a  mild  spell,  Captain  Saunders  and  Wild 
Bill  came  over  from  the  post  on  their  way  to  the 
Kiowa  village. 

Since  returning  from  nursing  the  old  chief,  Tom 
227 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

had  said  little  about  the  ill  feeling  that  he  had 
stirred  up  in  old  Broken  Nose,  the  Kiowa  medi- 
cine-man, but,  overhearing  a  conversation  be- 
tween him  and  Wild  Bill,  I  learned  that  Tom  was 
feeling  uneasy  about  this.  He  suspected  that 
Broken  Nose  had  sent  a  message  to  Satank  which, 
he  feared,  boded  us  no  good.  He  asked  Bill  to 
try  to  find  out  something  about  it. 

After  their  return  next  day,  at  supper  Tom  in- 
formed us  that  while  at  To  hausen's  camp  Bill 
had  discovered  that  old  Broken  Nose  had  really 
sent  to  Satank  a  secret  message,  the  bearer  of 
which  had  not  returned.  Bill  could  not  learn 
what  the  message  was,  but  from  the  old  Indian's 
evident  hostility  toward  Tom,  and  from  certain 
unfriendly  remarks  he  had  been  heard  to  make 
concerning  our  killing  so  many  buffalo  and  other 
game,  there  were  good  reasons  to  suspect  that  his 
purpose  was  to  stir  up  Satank's  well-known  ani- 
mosity toward  the  whites  in  general,  and  direct 
his  attention  to  us  in  particular,  in  order  to  even 
up  with  Tom  by  bringing  the  hostiles  down  on  us. 

Some  of  To  hausen's  people  had  told  Bill,  in  a 
friendly  way,  to  warn  us  to  be  sure  to  close  up  our 
work  and  get  away  from  here,  or  else  look  out  for 
trouble  from  Satank's  band  as  soon  as  the  new 
grass  began  to  come;  but  they  did  not  seem  to 
think  that  Satank's  horses  would  be  in  condition 
for  him  and  his  warriors  to  make  a  raid  on  us  be- 
fore the  grass  got  up. 

228 


WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS 

The  fact  that  a  few  of  To  hausen's  followers 
denied  the  report  that  Broken  Nose  was  trying 
to  make  trouble  for  us  led  Bill  to  conclude  that 
some  of  them  were  not  so  friendly  to  us  as  they 
pretended.  After  stating  the  situation,  Tom 
went  on:  "Bill  says  it  ain't  likely  that Satank  will 
be  in  a  condition  to  make  any  move  for  two  or 
three  weeks  yet,  and  by  that  time  we'll  be  done 
skinning  wolves  and  out  of  here;  but  there's  a  pos- 
sibility that  the  old  rascal  may  make  a  forced 
march,  in  order  to  catch  us  before  we  can  get 
away.  In  that  case  we  may  have  to  fight.  He 
might  be  able  to  find  a  few  of  his  ponies  that  are 
able  to  travel  and  mount  a  party  of  his  men  and 
ride  over  here  to  see  what  we're  doing;  or,  if  he 
and  his  bucks  get  very  anxious  for  a  row,  they 
might  make  the  trip  afoot.  Anyway,  from  now 
on,  we've  got  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  Injuns 
or  fresh  signs  in  this  neighborhood,  an'  also  a  close 
watch  of  To  hausen's  camp;  for  if  Satank  should 
come  over  this  way  he'd  be  apt  to  go  there  first 
thing.  To  hausen  himself  an'  most  of  his  people 
are  friendly  to  us,  but  it's  more'n  likely  that  some 
of  'em'll  be  ready  to  give  Satank  any  information 
about  us  that  he  wants." 

Wild  Bill  had  seemed  rather  serious  and  thought- 
ful this  night — and  it  was  so  uncommon  for  him  to 
remain  serious  long  at  a  time  that  it  attracted  my 
attention — and  as  we  were  about  to  turn  in  he 
remarked: 

229 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"  Boys,  as  Tom  says,  it's  best  to  be  prepared  for 
emergencies,  and  if  anything  serious  should  hap- 
pen to  you,  such  as  Satank  an'  his  warriors  a-loom- 
ing  up  of  a  sudden  and  a-jumping  your  camp  or 
corralling  you,  an'  you  could  manage  to  send  word 
to  me,  the  captain  an'  I'll  mount  some  of  his  sol- 
diers and  come  right  over.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  how 
you  can  send  me  word" — untying  a  bead  necklace 
which  he  wore  around  his  neck.  "I'll  leave  this 
with  you.  Hang  it  somewheres  handy,  and  if  you 
have  need  of  help  just  write  a  few  words  on  a  slip 
of  paper,  tie  it  'round  the  necklace,  then  hold  the 
necklace  to  Pound's  nose  and  let  him  get  the  scent; 
then  tie  it  'round  his  neck,  point  to  the  fort,  and 
say  to  him:  'Go  to  Bill!'  He'll  savvy,  for  he's 
been  trained  to  it,  and  he'll  go  a-flying  till  he  gets 
to  my  quarters.  Now,  mind  you,  you  may  not 
have  any  occasion  to  send  for  me  at  all;  you're 
likely  to  finish  up  your  wolf  skinning  an'  get  away 
from  here  before  Satank  gets  around;  but  if  any- 
thing should  happen  that  you  need  us,  do  as  I've 
told  you,  an'  we'll  come  a-curling  and  help  you 
out.  Is  it  a  whack,  Cap?"  appealing  to  Saun- 
ders. 

"It  is,"  replied  the  captain,  "and  to  be  prepared 
for  such  a  call — though  I  hope  they'll  have  no  oc- 
casion to  make  it — I'll  have  an  understanding  with 
the  major  when  I  get  back,  so  that  if  it  should 
come  in  the  night  I  will  be  allowed  to  take  my 
company  out  of  the  post  as  quickly  as  possible, 

230 


WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS 

without  calling  on  him  or  disturbing  the  rest  of 
the  garrison." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  added  Bill.  "It'll  save 
a  heap  of  time." 

"Well,"  said  old  Tom,  "we'll  try  an'  not  put 
the  captain  an'  Bill  to  so  much  trouble  unless  it's 
a  case  of  dire  necessity.  I  hardly  think  that  Sa- 
tank  will  make  war  on  us,  an'  if  he  should,  we're 
pretty  well  fixed  for  fighting  an'  can  give  him  a 
good  tussle  before  we  call  on  our  neighbors  for 
help." 

"I'm  not  scared  about  it,"  replied  Bill,  "an'  I 
know  you  boys  ain't,  for  this  is  just  an  emergency 
arrangement.  But  I  tell  you  right  now,  Tom,  if 
there's  any  fighting  an'  you  don't  give  me  a  show 
I  won't  like  you  for  it." 

I  took  the  bead  necklace  and  hung  it  in  a  con- 
spicuous place  on  the  wall,  little  thinking  that  we 
would  ever  have  occasion  to  use  it,  and  sincerely 
hoping  that  we  would  not;  but  I  felt  that  both  Bill 
and  Tom,  who  understood  Indian  ways  best,  really 
anticipated  trouble  with  them  and  were  mentally 
preparing  to  meet  it. 

After  the  departure  of  our  guests  next  morning 
each  of  us  went  about  his  accustomed  duties  as 
usual. 

After  several  days  had  passed  and  nothing  had 
occurred  to  arouse  our  uneasiness  we  gradually 
regained  our  accustomed  assurance,  but  I  know 
that  while  out  hunting  or  skinning  wolves  I  was 

231 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

more  keenly  watchful  than  formerly,  and  sev- 
eral times  on  returning  to  camp  I  had  noticed  Tom 
coming  down  from  the  nearest  bluff  with  the  field- 
glass  in  his  hand,  indicating  that  he  had  been 
scanning  the  surrounding  country. 

I  noticed,  too,  that  lately,  whenever  the  team 
was  sent  over  to  the  fort,  in  addition  to  the  usual 
batch  of  baled  wolfskins,  Tom  was  now  sending 
other  stuff,  such  as  surplus  grain  and  provisions— 
anything,  in  fact,  that  could  be  dispensed  with  in 
the  camp  and  reduce  our  outfit,  as  he  said,  to 
"light  marching  order,"  for  we  thought  now  in  a 
couple  of  weeks  more  we  would  be  ready  to  break 
up  camp  and  go  in. 

Of  the  three,  Jack  was  by  far  the  most  indiffer- 
ent, for,  as  he  said,  "It's  time  enough  to  bid  the 
divil  good  morning  when  you  meet  him." 

Since  To  hausen's  band  had  located  near  us  we 
had  had  frequent  visits  from  some  of  his  people, 
when  the  weather  was  fair,  and  had  struck  up 
quite  a  profitable  trade  with  them  for  buffalo 
robes,  dressed  deer  and  antelope  skins,  with  a  few 
otter,  beaver,  panther,  wildcat  skins,  and  the  like, 
paying  for  them  in  coffee,  sugar,  flour,  or  tobacco. 
And  since  returning  from  his  attendance  on  the 
old  chief  Tom  made  it  a  point  to  visit  him  every 
few  days,  ostensibly  to  see  how  the  old  fellow  was 
getting  along,  but  more  particularly  to  try  to  find 
out  if  any  intercourse  was  passing  between  Sa- 
tank's  band  and  To  hausen's. 

232 


WE  TRADE  WITH  INDIANS 

To  hausen  seemed  sincere  in  his  efforts  to  be- 
friend Tom  and,  so  far  as  he  could,  kept  Tom  in- 
formed; but  for  obvious  reasons  he  had  to  be  secret 
about  it.  Not  much  going  and  coming  between 
the  two  bands  was  to  be  expected,  however,  for 
the  weather  was  still  quite  severe  and  stormy  a 
great  part  of  the  time,  the  distance  between  the 
two  camps  considerable,  and  Indian  ponies  at  this 
season  of  the  year  were  poor  and  weak. 

In  our  traffic  with  the  old  chiefs  people  we  had 
given  them  a  liberal  exchange  for  their  skins  and 
peltries — far  more  than  they  would  have  received 
from  the  traders — we  being  satisfied  with  about 
one  hundred  per  cent,  profit  on  the  goods  we  traded 
them  instead  of  three  to  four  hundred  per  cent,  as 
was  the  custom  with  men  regularly  engaged  in  the 
trade. 

The  Indians  were  not  slow  to  see  that  we  were 
giving  them  more  for  their  stuff  than  they  usually 
received  from  the  traders,  and  our  commerce  with 
them  increased.  Soon  we  found  that  we  were 
gathering  in  so  much  of  this  material  that  it  be- 
came a  serious  question  how  we  were  going  to 
smuggle  it  into  our  storeroom  at  Fort  Larned,  or 
beyond  there,  without  Weisselbaum's  knowledge, 
or,  in  case  we  sold  our  skins  to  him,  how  to  ac- 
count for  those  we  had  traded  from  the  Indians. 
He  had  a  trader's  license  from  the  government, 
and  we  had  nothing  of  the  kind.  According  to 
law,  we  were  trespassing  on  his  rights,  in  which 

233 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  commanding  officer  at  Fort  Larned  was  in 
duty  bound  to  protect  him.  When  we  began 
trading  with  the  Indians  we  had  not  thought  of 
these  difficulties,  but,  having  got  into  it,  we  deter- 
mined to  bluff  it  out  and  trust  to  luck  for  some 
future  plan  to  suggest  itself  to  us  for  getting 
through. 


234 


CHAPTER  XXI 
JACK'S  CLOSE  CALL 

the  plains  a  prairie  fire  is  always  something 
to  be  dreaded,  for  with  the  usual  breeze,  which 
often  amounts  to  a  gale,  a  fire  in  heavy,  dry  grass 
is  almost  invariably  uncontrollable  and  a  source 
of  terror  to  the  luckless  traveller  who  happens  to 
be  in  its  track. 

Such  a  fire  originates  most  commonly  from  the 
embers  of  a  camp-fire — left  by  some  careless  or 
inexperienced  traveller — blown  by  a  rising  wind 
out  into  the  adjacent  dry  grass  or,  in  the  spring 
of  the  year,  by  fires  purposely  set  out  in  the  old 
grass  by  the  Indians  to  clear  the  ground  for  the 
next  crop. 

An  essay  might  be  written  on  prairie  fires  and 
the  dangers  from  them  and  on  the  best  means  of 
fighting  them.  I  have  now  only  to  tell  of  how 
one  of  us  was  caught  in  one. 

For  the  next  few  days  after  Wild  Bill  and  Cap- 
tain Saunders  had  left  us  we  were  all  busy  taking 
in  wolf  pelts.  The  season  was  fast  passing,  and 
we  yet  lacked  several  hundred  skins  of  the  three 
thousand  that  we  had  declared  that  we  would 
gather  before  quitting. 

235 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

One  cold,  windy  day,  when  a  gale  was  blowing 
from  the  northwest,  Jack  started  out  alone  and 
afoot — he  said  it  was  too  cold  and  windy  to  ride — 
to  kill  a  few  buffalo  wolf  baits. 

Crossing  the  creek  below  the  beaver  dam,  to 
look  for  buffalo  in  the  prairie  beyond,  he  soon 
passed  out  of  sight,  while  Tom  and  I  busied  our- 
selves taking  up  the  dried  skins  and  baling  them. 
We  heard  the  report  of  Jack's  carbine  occasionally 
and  knew  by  the  direction  of  the  sounds  that  he 
was  to  windward  of  camp — about  northwest. 

After  Jack  had  been  out  for  some  time  Tom 
took  the  field-glass  and  went  up  onto  the  bluff 
south  of  our  camp,  from  which  he  could  view  the 
prairie  north  of  the  creek. 

He  gazed  long  and  intently  through  the  glass  in 
Jack's  direction  and  presently  started  back  to 
camp  on  a  run. 

I  knew  that  something  unusual  was  up.  We 
had  heard  no  uncommon  firing  from  Jack,  but,  on 
seeing  Tom  hurrying  down  the  hill,  my  thought 
was :  "  Indians  about  or  Jack's  in  trouble."  Drop- 
ping my  work,  I  rushed  down  into  the  dugout, 
seized  both  rifles,  and,  with  a  few  blocks  of  car- 
tridges, ran  back  up  onto  the  bank  again,  looking 
first  toward  Tom  and  then  to  the  timber  north  of 
us.  There  was  no  sign  or  sound  of  an  enemy. 

When  the  old  man  arrived,  breathless  from  run- 
ning, he  noted  my  preparations  for  war  and  gasped 
out  as  fast  as  he  could  catch  his  breath: 

236 


JACK'S  CLOSE  CALL 

"No!  no  Injuns!  See  the  big  smoke  over  the 
tree  tops?  Prairie's  all  afire  out  that  way!  Corn- 
in'  fast!  I'm  afraid  Jack's  caught  in  it.  I  saw 
-him  just  before  I  noticed  the  fire.  He  was  out 
in  the  bottom  'bout  midway  between  the  timber 
and  the  lodge-pole  trail,  a-working  on  a  buffalo 
he'd  killed,  and  just  then  I  noticed  a  lone  Injun 
riding  along  the  trail  the  other  side  of  Jack;  and 
I  saw  the  infernal  rascal  halt  when  he  got  right  to 
windward  of  Jack,  and  dismount  and  squat  down 
in  the  grass;  and  then  come  a  puff  of  smoke  and 
the  prairie  was  afire.  And  then  the  Injun  got  on 
his  pony  and  galloped  along  the  trail  a  piece  and 
fired  the  grass  again.  And  this  he  repeated  several 
times.  The  cuss  had  seen  Jack  and  fired  the  grass 
to  try  to  burn  him  up,  and  I'm  afraid  he's  done  it, 
for  I  don't  see  how  Jack  could  escape  without  he 
could  fly,  for  when  I  left  the  bluff  the  fires  had  all 
run  together  and  were  a-coming  toward  Jack  like 
a  race-horse,  in  a  wall  of  flames  that  seemed  to 
leap  twenty  feet  high  at  times." 

"What  can  we  do,  Tom?"  I  asked.  "Can't  we 
do  something  to  help  him?" 

"I  don't  see  what  we  can  do,"  replied  the  old 
man  with  a  look  of  despair,  "but  you  run  down  to 
the  stable  and  clap  the  saddle  onto  Prince,  and 
be  ready  to  go  and  look  for  what's  left  of  him  soon 
as  the  fire  burns  out.  It'll  stop  when  it  gets  to 
the  creek  and  quick  as  the  smoke  clears  away  so's 
you  can  stand  it,  you  be  ready  to  light  out." 

237 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

I  rushed  to  the  stable  and  he  followed  me,  talk- 
ing as  I  saddled  up. 

"Near  as  I  could  make  him  out  through  the 
glass,  I  believe  it's  that  infernal  old  Broken  Nose 
that's  done  this  job.  It  looked  some  like  him 
and  I  noticed  he  climbed  on  and  off  his  pony  like 
an  old  man." 

I  soon  had  Prince  saddled  and  led  him  up  onto 
the  bank,  where  we  impatiently  waited  what 
seemed  an  endless  time  but  was  really  only  a  few 
minutes. 

The  fire  was  now  roaring  and  crackling  just  be- 
yond the  strip  of  timber  bordering  the  creek.  The 
smoke  would  probably  have  been  stifling  in  our 
camp  by  this  time,  but  on  striking  the  timber  the 
wind  had  given  it  an  upward  pitch  that  sent  most 
of  it  above  us. 

The  fire  kept  up  such  a  roaring  and  rushing  noise 
that  I  began  to  fear  that  the  wind  might  carry 
some  of  it  across  the  creek,  but  as  soon  as  it  entered 
the  timber  on  the  north  side,  where  the  grass  was 
shorter,  a  marked  subsidence  was  apparent. 

I  mounted  and  moved  up  to  the  south  bank  of 
the  creek,  anxious  to  be  off  on  my  search  for  Jack, 
but  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke  and  flying  ashes 
whirled  through  the  trees  from  the  burnt  ground 
for  some  minutes  after  the  fire  seemed  to  have  ex- 
hausted its  fury,  and,  impatient  as  I  was,  I  yet 
had  to  wait  before  venturing  to  enter  the  burnt 
district.  As  soon  as  I  could  endure  it  I  crossed 

238 


JACK'S  CLOSE  CALL 

the  creek  and  started,  still  half  blinded  and  choked 
by  the  flying  smoke  and  ashes,  which  so  obscured 
my  vision  that  I  could  see  but  a  short  distance 
ahead.  The  fire  now  was  all  gone  except  here  and 
there  a  few  buffalo-chips  still  burning,  but  the  hot 
smoke-and-ashes-laden  air  was  stifling. 

I  struck  a  gallop,  to  hurry  through  the  worst 
part  of  the  ground,  and  soon  began  to  get  out  into 
a  little  clearer  atmosphere,  and  was  greatly  re- 
joiced to  see  Jack  coming  toward  me  though  yet 
some  distance  off.  I  noticed  that  though  he  was 
coming  with  the  wind  he  walked  unsteadily,  as 
though  nearly  exhausted,  stopping  now  and  then 
to  sit  down  and  rest.  The  air  was  yet  so  murky 
that  he  had  not  noticed  me  until  I  came  near  him, 
when,  staggering  to  his  feet  from  an  old  buffalo 
skull  he  had  been  sitting  on,  he  waved  his  hand 
weakly  and  tried  to  whoop,  but  the  effort  set  him 
to  coughing  as  he  halted  and  leaned  on  his  rifle. 
As  I  reached  him  I  noticed  that  his  wolfskin  over- 
coat that  he  wore  at  starting  from  camp  was  miss- 
ing and  his  other  clothes  were  much  soiled,  ap- 
parently having  been  wet  in  places,  coated  with 
adhering  soot  and  ashes,  and  now  frozen  by  the 
cold  wind. 

"Why,  Jack!"  I  exclaimed  as  I  reined  up  and 
dismounted,  "how  in  the  world  did  you  live 
through  the  fire?  And  how  did  you  get  your 
clothes  wet?" 

"In  the  buffalo,"  he  answered  as  he  again  began 
coughing. 

239 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"In  what?"  I  asked  in  perplexity.  "In  a  buf- 
falo?" 

As  he  attempted  to  explain,  still  coughing,  I  in- 
terrupted him  with : 

"Never  mind,  Jack;  don't  try  to  talk.  I  savvy. 
Here,  let  me  help  you  on  Prince,  and  when  we  get 
to  camp  you  can  tell  us  all  about  it." 

Helping  him  on  the  horse,  I  walked  alongside  of 
him  to  camp,  but  insisted  that  he  should  not  try 
to  talk  until  his  lungs  got  clear  of  the  smoke  and 
ashes  he  had  inhaled. 

When  he  had  answered  my  questions  as  to  how 
he  had  escaped  the  fire  and  got  his  clothes  wet  by 
replying,  "In  the  buffalo,"  I  was  at  first  puzzled; 
but  gradually  the  explanation  dawned  on  me.  He 
had  tried  the  exploit  I  had  read  of  to  him  and  Tom 
the  other  night  out  of  Cooper's  "The  Prairie." 

On  reaching  camp  I  hurriedly  told  Tom  of 
Jack's  exploit  and  his  condition  and  suggested 
that  no  questions  be  asked  for  the  present.  We 
helped  him  into  the  dugout  and  put  him  to  bed. 
I  explained  to  Tom  how,  as  I  conjectured,  Jack 
had  escaped  the  fire  but  the  Irishman  was  not  in 
a  condition  to  tell  us  about  that,  though  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  we  kept  him  from  trying  to 
talk. 

By  the  next  forenoon  our  Irishman  was  able  to 
talk  without  much  difficulty. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  began  in  a  weak  voice,  "I  be- 
lieve it's  the  closest  call  I've  had  this  long  time, 

240 


JACK'S  CLOSE  CALL 

and  I  never  want  to  get  into  such  another  tight 
place,  where  breath  is  so  scarce.  I'd  killed  the 
buffalo  and  begun  ripping  open  the  hide  to  skin  it 
back,  and  just  then  I  got  a  smell  of  grass  a-burning, 
and,  looking  up,  I  saw  in  a  jiffy  what  a  trap  I  was 
in  and  no  way  out  of  it  unless  I  could  fly.  Sud- 
denly I  thought  of  that  skame  that  Peck  read 
about  the  other  night,  and  in  a  minute  I  was  cut- 
ting and  slashing  in  blood  up  to  my  shoulders. 

"I  ripped  open  the  throat  and  cut  off  the  wind- 
pipe and  cut  loose  everything  around  the  lights 
inside  as  far  as  I  could  reach.  Then  I  started  in 
behind  the  brisket  and  ripped  open  the  belly  and 
reached  in  and  got  a  holt  of  the  windpipe  and 
begun  pulling  the  entrails  back,  and  all  the  time 
I  was  too  busy  to  look  up  to  see  how  nigh  the  fire 
was  a-getting;  but  I  knew  by  the  smoke  thick 
around  me  and  the  roar  of  the  fire  that  I  didn't 
have  any  time  to  fool  away. 

"When  I  got  the  in'ards  dragged  out  I  placed 
my  wolfskin  coat  over  the  opening  I'd  made  in 
the  breast  and  then  propped  up  the  short  ribs  and 
flank  with  me  carbine  so's  I  could  crawl  in,  and 
in  I  went,  pulling  my  carbine  in  after  me;  and 
none  too  soon,  either,  for  the  fire  was  roaring 
around  me  and  I  could  smell  the  wool  a-burning 
in  a  second  after  I'd  got  inside. 

"And  then's  when  I  begun  to  smell  hell  for 
sure!  The  little  bit  of  fresh  air  that  was  inside 
the  buffalo  soon  gave  way  to  hot  smoke,  and  oh, 

241 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

man!  it  was  horrible!     I  hope  I  may  never  come 
so  nigh  suffocation  again. 

"After  the  fire  had  passed  and  I  began  to 
breathe  again,  I  felt  weak  and  all  gone,  like  I 
hadn't  strength  enough  to  crawl  out  of  the  carcass. 
I  wondthered  whether  you  would  ever  find  my  re- 
mains. I  laid  there  awhile  and  by  and  by  I  began 
to  feel  better,  and  then  I  crawfished  out  back- 
wards. After  shaking  myself  together  I  says  to 
myself,  says  I,  *  Never  say  die,  Jacky  boy!  You're 
better  than  two  dead  men  yet,  so  you  are!'  And 
picking  up  my  carbine  I  made  a  brave  stagger  for 
camp,  but  if  you  hadn't  met  me  with  the  horse 
it's  a  long  time  I'd  'a'  been  getting  here,  so  I 
would." 


242 


CHAPTER  XXII 
SATANK  ARRIVES 

IC^ARLY  March  found  us  closing  up  our  affairs 
*-*  at  the  camp,  preparatory  to  starting  back  to 
the  settlements.  We  had  succeeded  in  taking  a 
few  more  than  our  three  thousand  wolfskins;  and 
in  addition  to  these  we  would  have  nearly  a  wagon- 
ful  of  bales  of  the  dressed  buffalo  robes  and  other 
skins  we  had  traded  for  with  To  hausen's  people, 
together  with  the  beaver,  otter,  antelope,  and  other 
pelts  we  had  taken  in  our  camp. 

We  had  hauled  all  our  baled  wolfskins  over  to 
Fort  Larned  and  stored  them  there  as  fast  as  they 
accumulated,  but  retained  in  camp  for  the  last 
load  our  otter  and  beaver  skins  and  the  peltries 
we  had  gotten  from  the  Indians;  for  we  thought  it 
best  not  to  bring  these  latter  under  the  notice  of 
Weisselbaum,  for  fear  he  should  make  trouble  for 
us  for  encroaching  on  his  Indian  trade. 

As  a  prospective  buyer  he  had  kept  close  watch 
of  our  wolfskins,  as  we  stored  them,  and  was  anx- 
ious to  buy  our  whole  catch;  but  we  had  stood 
him  off,  saying  that  we  thought  we  could  do  better 
with  them  in  Leavenworth.  We  had  heard  that 

243 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Kitchen's  freighting  train  from  New  Mexico  was 
on  the  road,  going  in  empty,  and  would  pass 
Fort  Larned  in  a  few  days,  and  had  decided  that 
if  we  could  not  get  Weisselbaum  up  to  our  figures, 
we  would  ship  them  in  that  way. 

After  an  early  dinner,  Tom  and  Jack  had  started 
for  the  fort  with  the  mule  team,  taking  a  partial 
load  of  the  last  of  our  wolfskins — a  half  dozen 
bales — and  some  camp  plunder. 

I  do  not  think  that  my  comrades  were  as  much 
alarmed  as  I  was  at  the  thought  of  the  hostiles 
dropping  in  on  us.  They  seemed  to  be  borrowing 
no  trouble  on  that  account  and,  for  fear  of  being 
ridiculed  by  them  for  my  cowardly  fears,  I  had 
kept  my  thoughts  on  this  subject  to  myself. 

On  this  day  we  had  all  seemed  unusually  jolly; 
even  Tom's  grim  features  occasionally  relaxed  into 
a  pleasant  smile  at  some  sally  from  our  wild  Irish- 
man. Our  spirits  were  high,  for  we  had  grown 
tired  of  buffalo  hunting  and  wolf  skinning,  with  all 
the  attendant  hardships  and  excitements,  and  were 
now  eager  to  get  back  into  "God's  country"  with 
our  profitable  cargo  of  skins,  to  reap  the  reward  of 
our  winter's  hard  work. 

As  I  stood  looking  after  Tom  and  Jack  as  they 
drove  away,  I  thought:  "To-morrow  they'll  be 
back,  and  the  next  morning  we'll  load  up  the  last 
of  our  camp  outfit  and  will  soon  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  Satank  and  his  crowd." 

While  still  standing  on  top  of  our  dugout 
244 


SATANIC  ARRIVES 

watching  the  receding  wagon  a  growl  from  Found, 
at  my  feet,  caused  me  to  look  down  at  him;  and 
following  the  direction  of  his  look,  down  the  ravine 
toward  the  timber,  I  saw  an  Indian  boy  afoot 
stealthily  approaching,  every  now  and  then  casting 
furtive  glances  behind  him  as  though  fearful  that 
he  might  be  seen  by  some  one  in  the  timber.  I  at 
once  recognized  the  boy  as  one  of  To  hausen's 
sons  and,  quieting  the  dog,  awaited  his  approach. 
Following  a  path  skirting  the  edge  of  the  water 
in  the  ravine,  when  he  had  reached  the  platform 
between  our  dugouts,  he  again  looked  cautiously 
about  and  beckoned  me  to  come  down  where  he 
stood. 

When  I  neared  him  he  said  in  his  broken  English  : 

"To  hausen,  my  fadder,  he  say  tell  you,  'look 
out!  Satank  comin'!" 

And  then  asked,  looking  anxiously  into  my  face: 

"You  savvy?" 

"Yes,  but  where?  When?"  I  hastened  to  ask 
excitedly. 

"Kin  savvy  senor,"  replied  the  boy,  "that  all 
To  hausen,  he  say,  that  all;  'look  out,  Satank 
cominT  Pretty  pronto,  I  'speck.  Now  I  mus' 
vamose.  Satank  he  see  me  here,  he  kill  me." 

And  quickly  turning  he  sneaked  down  the  ravine 
till  he  reached  the  brush  and  disappeared. 

To  say  that  I  was  alarmed  at  the  sudden  shock 
to  my  recent  feeling  of  confidence  is  to  put  it 
mildly;  but  I  realized  that  there  was  no  time  to 

245 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

waste  in  idle  regrets  at  the  unfortunate  turn  of 
affairs.  I  felt  almost  helpless  and  could  not  de- 
cide what  to  do  to  prepare  for  the  danger. 

Rushing  into  the  dugout  I  seized  my  carbine 
and,  going  again  up  onto  the  dirt  roof,  I  fired  sev- 
eral shots  in  the  hope  that  possibly  the  sound  might 
reach  my  companions,  who  were  still  in  sight, 
slowly  climbing  the  hill  about  two  miles  away.  It 
was  no  use — the  wind  was  blowing  from  them  to 
me,  and  they  moved  steadily  on,  evidently  not 
hearing  me. 

I  was  hesitating  whether  to  jump  on  Prince, 
ride  after  them  and  hurry  them  back  to  prepare 
for  a  probable  call  from  the  hostiles  when  a  surly 
growl  and  bark  from  Found  drew  my  attention 
another  way,  and  I  was  almost  frightened  out  of 
my  wits  to  see  two  mounted  Indians  coming,  one 
behind  the  other  in  single  file,  along  the  trail  lead- 
ing from  the  ford  below  the  beaver  dam. 

They  were  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine — 
the  stable  side — so  I  moved  down  onto  the  plat- 
form between  the  dugouts,  where  I  would  have  a 
better  position,  still  hoping  that  they  would  turn 
out  to  be  some  of  To  hausen's  people;  but  a  thrill 
of  something  akin  to  horror  ran  through  me  on 
looking  closely  at  the  foremost  Indian  when  he 
had  reached  the  top  of  the  bank  a  few  feet  from 
me,  for  I  recognized  the  sinister  countenance  of 
Satank. 

To  let  him  know  that  I  recognized  him  and 
246 


SATANK  ARRIVES 

understood  his  probable  feelings  toward  me,  I 
swung  my  carbine  into  a  threatening  position  and 
called  out,  "Halt!"  at  the  same  time  making  the 
sign  to  him  to  stop  where  he  was. 

He  halted  at  the  command,  as  did  the  other  In- 
dian in  the  rear,  and,  while  keeping  a  close  watch 
on  both  to  see  that  they  drew  no  gun  on  me,  I 
demanded  in  a  defiant  tone: 

"Halloo,  Satank,  what  do  you  want  here?" 

Satank  made  no  reply,  but  motioned  his  com- 
panion to  his  side. 

I  recognized  the  man  as  a  half-breed,  called  Mex- 
ican Joe,  who  had  sometimes  been  used  as  an  in- 
terpreter at  Fort  Wise.  Joe  was  evidently  to  act 
as  interpreter  now. 

In  my  defiant  attitude  and  speech  I  was  assum- 
ing much  more  self-confidence  than  I  really  felt; 
but  I  wished  to  impress  them  that  I  distrusted 
them,  understood  their  intentions,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  stand  them  off*  or  fight.  However,  neither 
of  the  savages  made  any  threatening  movement — 
the  time  was  not  ripe  for  declaring  war — they  had 
evidently  come  on  a  reconnoitring  expedition. 

As  soon  as  the  interpreter  had  moved  up  to 
him  Satank  spoke  a  few  words  to  Mexican  Joe, 
who  asked  in  broken  English: 

"Where  your  pardners?  Other  mans?  Where 
wagon?" 

"Gone  down  to  To  hausen's  camp,"  I  said. 

"He  say,  'Maybe  so  you  lie,' "  said  Joe,  making 
247 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

the  sign  of  the  forked  tongue;  then  continued, 
"Any  mans  in  casa — house?"  nodding  toward  the 
dugout. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

Apparently  wishing  to  see  the  inside  of  our 
house — or  to  get  the  drop  on  me  in  some  way — 
after  a  few  more  words  between  them,  Joe  said: 

"He  say:  'White  man  come  to  Kiowa's  camp 
Kiowa  feed  him.  Satank  he  hungry.  Want  to 
go  in  casa,  eat  with  white  man — be  good  amigos." 

I  replied: 

"Food  all  gone.  Pardners  gone  with  wagon  to 
bring  some  buffalo  meat.  Tell  him  to  come  again 
when  pardners  get  back.  I'll  give  him  plenty  to 


eat." 


Of  course,  Satank  did  not  believe  this,  and  I  did 
not  care.  I  wished  to  stand  him  off,  for  I  was  de- 
termined that  he  should  get  no  closer  inspection 
of  our  situation  than  he  already  had.  I  felt  sure 
that  he  had  a  party  of  his  warriors  close  about— 
probably  in  hiding  in  the  timber — and  that  he 
had  come  on  a  spying  tour. 

Satank  evidently  recognized  me  as  one  of  the 
actors  in  an  episode  that  took  place  at  Fort  Wise 
when  I  was  in  the  service,  and  asked  a  number  of 
questions  about  it.  To  all  these  I  replied  by  deny- 
ing any  knowledge  of  the  event.  The  interpreter 
said,  however: 

"He  say:  'You  can't  fool  him.     He  know  you."1 

I  was  in  dread  all  the  time  that  they  might  lift 
248 


SATANK  ARRIVES 

their  eyes  to  the  upland  prairie  in  the  direction  of 
Fort  Lamed,  where  our  white-covered  wagon  was 
still  in  plain  view;  but  a  little  swell  of  the  prairie 
hid  it  from  them. 

After  exchanging  a  few  more  words  in  their  own 
language,  Joe  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"Adios,  good-by,  senor.     We  go — vamose." 

Backing  away  a  few  steps,  they  turned  off 
around  the  butt  of  our  haystack,  and  made  for  the 
crossing  of  the  ravine  just  above  our  dugouts. 
Here  they  examined  the  ground  closely,  evidently 
looking  for  fresh  tracks  of  our  wagon  and  mules  to 
see  which  way  they  had  gone. 

As  soon  as  they  crossed  the  ravine  I  returned  to 
my  station  on  the  dirt  roof  of  our  dugout  where 
I  Could  watch  their  movements.  When  they 
reached  the  higher  ground  and  our  Fort  Larned 
trail  the  fresh  tracks  of  the  team  gave  them  their 
clew.  Pointing  to  the  fresh  signs,  Satank's  eyes 
followed  the  course  of  the  trail  until  he  caught 
sight  of  the  wagon  in  the  distance,  just  as  it 
seemed  to  reach  the  crest  of  the  high  prairie  about 
three  miles  away.  With  an  excited  exclamation  he 
pointed  out  his  discovery  to  his  companion,  and 
then  mounting  rode  off  at  a  lively  gait. 

I  conjectured  that  Satank  would  either  pursue 
the  wagon  or  bring  his  men  to  attack  my  position 
— probably  both.  In  either  case  it  was  of  the 
utmost  importance  that  I  warn  my  comrades, 
which  now  seemed  an  impossibility;  and  while 

249 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

fretting   at   my  helplessness  I   looked  down   at 
Found,  at  my  feet,  and  the  inspiration  came. 
"Good!"  I  shouted,  "I'll  send  the  dog!" 
Rushing  down  into  the  cabin  I  seized  a  piece  of 
paper  and  hastily  wrote  on  it: 


Look  out  for  Satank  and  his  gang !     They  are  after 
you  !    I  am  0.  K.,  so  far. 

PECK. 


Quickly  tying  this  slip  to  Pound's  collar  and 
taking  down  an  old  cap  of  Tom's  from  which  to 
give  the  dog  the  scent,  I  hurried  back  on  top  of 
the  dugout.  I  spoke  to  the  dog  and  then  pointed 
to  the  covered  wagon,  still  plainly  visible,  and  for 
fear  he  did  not  see  it  I  lifted  him  up  in  my  arms, 
pointed  again  to  the  far-off  wagon,  repeating  the 
names,  "Tom — Jack!" 

The  intelligent  creature  looked  up  into  my 
face,  as  I  set  him  down,  and  then  at  the  wagon, 
barked  and  wagged  his  tail  vigorously  as  though 
he  thought  he  understood  me.  I  then  pointed 
again  to  the  wagon,  held  Tom's  old  cap  to  his 
nose,  and  said,  "Go  to  Tom"  motioning  with  my 
hand  toward  the  wagon. 

Found  looked  carefully  all  around,  as  though  to 
see  if  there  were  any  Indians  about,  and  then  in- 
stead of  following  the  wagon  tracks,  as  I  supposed 
he  would,  he  started  down  into  the  bottom  of  the 
ravine,  the  head  of  which  led  toward  the  wagon; 

250 


"  Go  to  Tom. 


SATANK  ARRIVES 

and  after  going  a  few  rods,  stopped  and  looked  in- 
quiringly back  at  me,  as  if  to  ask:  "Am  I  right?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  answered  impatiently  as  I  mo- 
tioned him  away,  "go  to  Tom!  go  to  Tom!" 

The  dog  seemed  now  fully  to  comprehend  my 
wishes,  and  lit  out  up  the  ravine  on  a  lively  run, 
now  and  then  disappearing  from  my  view  for  a 
moment  in  the  sinuosities  of  the  gulch. 

I  turned  to  go  down  into  the  cabin  to  get  the 
field-glass,  the  better  to  watch  the  progress  of  the 
dog,  and  in  doing  so  I  instinctively  cast  my  glance 
in  the  direction  of  the  point  of  timber  where  Satank 
and  Joe  had  entered  a  few  moments  before,  and 
there  saw  a  party  of  mounted  Indians  hurrying  out 
of  the  woods  and  starting  across  the  prairie  after 
the  team. 

The  Kiowas  were  about  as  near  the  wagon  as 
Found,  and  it  seemed  that  it  would  be  a  close  race 
between  the  dog  and  Indians  as  to  which  would 
reach  the  team  first.  With  the  field-glass  I 
watched  the  advance  of  Indians  and  dog  with  ex- 
cited anxiety.  The  pursuers  and  my  messenger 
had  entered  broken  ground  between  the  creek  val- 
ley and  the  upland,  and  I  could  catch  only  occa- 
sional glimpses  of  them.  To  get  a  better  view  I 
climbed  up  on  the  derrick,  where  we  usually  hung 
our  fresh  meat,  which  gave  me  a  few  feet  more  of 
elevation.  I  tried  to  count  the  Indians  as  they 
started  in  pursuit  of  the  wagon  and  made  out  that 
they  numbered  about  forty. 

251 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

I  had  watched  first  Found  and  then  the  Kiowas 
through  the  glass  until  the  dog  had  proceeded  so 
far  that  he  had  passed  out  of  sight  on  the  upland, 
still  running;  and  the  Indians  could  only  be  seen 
at  intervals;  but  I  could  not  tell  which  was  nearer 
the  wagon.  The  Indians  were  approaching  it 
from  the  right  and  rear,  while  Found  would  be 
coming  from  nearly  behind.  Tom  and  Jack,  I 
knew,  would  be  sitting  on  the  seat  in  the  wagon, 
under  cover  of  the  sheet,  unsuspicious  of  danger; 
the  rattling  of  the  wagon  would  drown  any  noise 
of  the  galloping  Indians;  and  their  first  intima- 
tion of  the  presence  of  the  Kiowas — unless  Found 
reached  them  in  time — would  be  a  volley  of 
bullets  and  arrows  as  the  redskins  surrounded 
them. 

I  focussed  my  glass  steadily  on  the  white  wagon 
cover,  knowing  that  the  halting  or  turning  of  the 
team  would  indicate  that  my  messenger  or  the 
pursuers  had  reached  them.  If  Found  got  there 
first  the  team  would  stop;  Tom  and  Jack  would 
discover  the  Indians  and  then  quickly  jump  out, 
unhook  the  mules  and  tie  them  to  the  wheels  of 
the  wagon;  and  then  I  would  hear  the  reports  of 
their  rifles  first.  If  the  Indians  got  there  first  and 
surprised  my  comrades  I  would  probably  hear 
the  reports  of  the  Kiowas*  rifles  before  the  wagon 
stopped,  and  the  frightened  mules  would  then 
start  on  a  run. 

Riveting  my  gaze  on  the  wagon,  I  was  presently 
252 


SATANK  ARRIVES 

gratified  to  notice  it  halt,  and  a  moment  later  the 
two  familiar  reports  of  Sharp's  carbines  assured 
me  that  they,  Tom  and  Jack,  had  got  my  warning 
and  had  fired  the  first  shots. 

"Good!"  I  shouted  when  I  heard  their  rifles. 
"Ten  to  one  an  Indian  saddle  or  two  was  emptied 
by  those  shots!" 

Then  a  straggling  rattle  of  firearms,  with  now 
and  then  the  report  of  a  Sharp's,  indicated  that 
the  fight  was  on.  The  bobbing  up  and  down  of 
the  heads  of  galloping  Indians  passing  between  me 
and  the  wagon  showed  that  the  redskins  were 
circling  around  the  team;  and  as  they  passed  to 
right  and  left  of  the  wagon  they  seemed  to  be 
keeping  a  respectful  distance. 

The  firing  slackened.  Just  then  some  mounted 
men  and  animals  came  running  in  my  direction, 
and  as  they  came  near  enough  to  be  distinguish- 
able through  the  glass  I  made  out  that  the  two 
team  mules  had  gotten  away  from  Tom  and  Jack, 
after  being  unhitched  from  the  wagon,  and  were 
now  making  for  camp,  chased  by  a  number  of 
Kiowas.  The  Indians  soon  caught  the  mules  and 
led  them  back. 

The  firing  had  now  nearly  ceased.  Of  the 
wagon  I  could  only  see  the  white  cover.  The  In- 
dians seemed  to  have  formed  a  circle  around  my 
comrades  and  were  probably  waiting  for  night  to 
enable  them  to  crawl  up  near  enough  to  make  their 
rifles  effective.  This  they  could  do  in  the  dark- 

253 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

ness,  and  by  digging  rifle-pits  at  close  range  around 
the  wagon  they  would  have  Tom  and  Jack  under 
a  circle  of  rifle  fire  by  daylight. 


254 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

A3  the  shades  of  evening  crept  over  the  plain  it 
became  impossible  for  me  to  see  anything  dis- 
tinctly. The  occasional  reports  of  their  carbines 
assured  me  that  my  companions  were  still  standing 
off  the  savages. 

I  kept  asking  myself:  "What  can  I  do  to  help 
them?"  But  there  was  no  reply. 

I  had  no  inclination  to  eat  or  sleep  but  prepared 
for  a  long,  dismal  night  of  watchfulness.  After 
attending  to  the  horses  in  the  stable  I  went  into 
our  dugout  and  carried  out  some  blankets  and  a 
buffalo  robe,  and,  making  a  snug  bed  in  the  re- 
mains of  our  haystack,  where  I  could  command  a 
pretty  good  view  of  our  camp  and  surroundings,  I 
settled  down  for  a  long  night  of  torturing  anxiety. 

I  had  scarcely  got  settled  when  a  slight  noise 
from  up  the  ravine  attracted  my  attention,  and, 
quickly  jumping  to  the  conclusion  that  some  of 
the  Indians  were  already  looking  for  me,  I  strained 
eyes  and  ears  to  locate  the  one  who  had  made  the 
noise. 

I  soon  discerned  a  dark  object  coming  down  the 
hollow,  but,  instead  of  the  catlike  tread  of  an  ap- 

255 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

preaching  Indian,  with  rushing  gallop  and  joyous 
bark  Found  came  bounding  up  to  me.  In  the 
semidarkness  I  saw  something  whitish  about  his 
neck,  which  I  knew  must  be  a  message  from  Tom 
and  Jack. 

Rushing  into  the  dugout,  I  lit  a  candle,  and,  un- 
tying from  Found's  collar  a  piece  of  paper,  I  read 
Tom's  hastily  scrawled  note: 

PECK:  The  Injuns  have  got  us  corralled  and  got  the 
mules.  Both  of  us  wounded  but  not  bad.  Laying  under 
the  wagon  with  the  bales  of  wolf  skins  around  us.  Send 
us  a  few  carbine  cartridges  by  Found,  and  put  Bill's  neck- 
lace on  him,  so  we  can  send  him  on  for  Bill.  Look  out 
for  yourself.  TOM. 

"No  time  to  be  lost,"  I  said  to  myself;  and,  sit- 
ting down,  I  quickly  wrote  on  the  reverse  side  of 
Tom's  note: 

BILL:  Come  quick  with  soldiers.  Tom  and  Jack  are 
about  three  miles  out  on  Lamed  trail.  Read  other  side. 
I  am  0.  K.  at  camp,  so  far.  PECK. 

I  fed  the  good  dog,  and,  tying  up  four  packs  of 
Sharp's  rifle  cartridges — ten  in  a  pack — in  an  old 
handkerchief,  I  made  ready  to  send  Found  off.  I 
first  intended  to  tie  the  package  around  his  neck 
but  decided  that  he  could  more  easily  carry  it  by 
the  mouth. 

I  tied  my  note  to  his  collar,  gave  him  a  secure 
hold  of  the  handkerchief  of  cartridges  in  his  teeth, 

256 


SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

and  taking  down  Bill's  bead  necklace  from  the 
wall  I  held  it  to  his  nose  a  moment  to  give  him 
the  scent,  repeating  as  I  did  so,  "Go  to  Bill!  Go 
to  Bill!"  according  to  his  master's  instructions. 

Found  wagged  his  tail  and  looked  at  me  as 
though  he  understood  my  wishes.  I  felt  sure  he 
would  first  go  to  Tom  and  Jack,  who  would  take 
the  cartridges,  read  my  note  to  Bill,  take  off  the 
necklace  and  give  him  a  fresh  scent,  and  send 
him  on  to  the  fort. 

The  tired  dog  had  before  him  a  long  and  dan- 
gerous run  of  about  twenty  miles,  during  which  he 
would  have  to  pass  twice  through  the  cordon  of 
watchful  Indians  surrounding  my  comrades;  but 
it  was  the  only  hope  of  saving  the  men,  and  Found 
seemed  able  and  willing  for  the  undertaking. 

I  felt  confident  that  if  the  Kiowas  did  not  kill  or 
cripple  him,  Found  would  make  the  trip  quickly. 
He  had  already  evaded  the  Indians  in  returning  to 
camp,  and  I  felt  strong  hopes  that  his  almost 
human  intelligence  would  carry  him  through. 

Pound's  first  move  on  going  out  of  the  dugout 
was  to  go  up  on  the  roof  and  stand  there  for  a 
little  while  sniffing  the  air.  Then  he  turned  and 
trotted  to  the  ravine,  up  which  he  went  at  a  run. 

My  nest  in  the  hay  was  a  good  enough  point 
for  observation  but  not  for  defence,  but  I  went 
back  there  to  think  things  over. 

The  waning  moon  would  rise  about  midnight. 
If  the  Indians  waited  till  then  before  attacking  I 

257 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

should  command  a  somewhat  clearer  view  of  my 
surroundings. 

I  thought  that  the  dog  should  reach  the  wagon 
in  an  hour  after  leaving  me  and  felt  sure  that  it 
would  not  be  long  after  that  before  he  set  out  on 
his  longer  run  to  the  fort.  This  should  take  two 
or  three  hours,  and  I  could  only  guess  the  time 
that  would  be  occupied  in  awakening  Bill  and  his 
dressing  and  rousing  Saunders  and  then  getting 
out  Saunders'  company.  It  seemed  to  me  the 
troops  ought  to  be  on  the  way  by  midnight  at 
the  latest,  and  they  ought  to  reach  my  companions 
in  two  hours  from  that  time. 

I  had  heard  no  shots  from  the  direction  of  the 
wagon  since  dark,  but  a  long  time  after  the  dog 
had  left  me,  and  while  I  was  watching  for  the  ris- 
ing moon,  I  heard  a  shot  or  two,  apparently  from 
the  rifles  of  the  Indians,  with  no  reply  from  the 
guns  of  my  comrades.  I  supposed — rightly,  as  I 
afterward  learned — that  Found  had  reached  the 
wagon  and  that  the  two  men,  by  lighting  matches 
to  read  my  note,  had  drawn  the  fire  from  the  In- 
dians. On  the  other  hand,  it  seemed  to  me  pos- 
sible that  the  Indians  might  have  seen  the  dog  and 
killed  him. 

At  length  a  little  light  appeared  in  the  east. 
The  moon  was  about  to  rise,  and  it  must  be  after 
midnight.  When  the  moon  looked  over  the  tops 
of  the  timber  and  the  light  grew,  I  began  to  scru- 
tinize objects  in  my  vicinity  and  thought  that  a 

258 


SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

little  way  down  the  ravine  I  saw  something  like  a 
wolf.  It  seemed  to  change  its  position  a  little  sev- 
eral times,  but  remained  too  long  in  one  place  to 
be  a  wolf. 

I  was  considering  going  into  the  dugout  to  get 
the  field-glasses  but  had  not  yet  moved  when 
suddenly  a  streak  of  fire,  rocket-like,  shot  up  from 
the  object  I  had  been  looking  at,  described  a 
graceful  curve,  and  struck  in  the  hay  a  few  feet 
from  me.  It  was  a  fire-arrow  shot  by  an  Indian, 
to  set  fire  to  the  haystack.  The  Indian  could  not 
have  known  that  I  was  lying  in  the  hay  but 
thought  that  by  firing  it  he  would  draw  me  out  of 
the  dugout  and  in  the  light  of  the  fire  would  get 
a  good  shot  at  me. 

I  knew  it  would  be  folly  to  try  to  extinguish  the 
blaze  that  at  once  sprang  up.  I  jumped  up,  gath- 
ing  blankets  and  buffalo  robes  in  my  arms,  to  run 
across  to  the  dugout,  and  as  I  rose  and  showed  up 
against  the  blaze  I  heard  the  crack  of  a  rifle,  and 
felt  the  shock  of  a  bullet  in  the  bundle  in  my  arms. 
I  was  not  hurt  and  dashed  for  the  cabin  door,  and 
as  I  entered  on  a  run  I  heard  the  report  of  another 
rifle  from  up  the  ravine  and  the  spat  of  the  bullet 
on  the  door-frame.  The  hay  was  now  burning 
briskly,  but  I  felt  no  anxiety  for  our  horses  in  the 
stable  almost  under  the  fire,  for  the  thick  dirt  roof 
protected  them. 

I  closed  and  barred  the  door  and  then  scrambled 
through  the  tunnel  up  into  the  tent  and  looked  out 

259 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

through  a  port-hole  which  gave  a  good  view  for 
fifty  yards  up  and  down  the  valley. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Indian  who  had  fired 
the  hay  as  he  looked  out  from  behind  a  projecting 
bank,  but  could  not  see  enough  of  him  to  justify 
shooting  in  the  uncertain  light.  Of  the  Indian 
who  had  come  near  hitting  me  as  I  entered  the 
cabin,  I  could  see  nothing.  As  I  turned  to  look 
again  at  the  first  Indian  I  saw  him  stealthily  move 
out  from  his  concealment,  crouching  down,  appar- 
ently peering  at  the  cabin  door.  Pushing  the  muz- 
zle of  my  carbine  through  the  port-hole  in  front  of 
me,  I  took  as  careful  aim  at  him  as  I  could  and 
fired.  I  saw  that  I  had  hit  him,  for  he  dropped 
his  rifle,  fell,  and  rolled  into  the  water  but  quickly 
scrambled  back  to  his  hiding-place  and  did  not 
again  show  himself;  but  the  flash  of  my  rifle  had 
been  seen  by  my  watchful  neighbor  up  the  ravine, 
who  an  instant  later  sent  a  bullet  through  the  top 
of  the  tent  over  my  head. 

Presently  the  hay  burned  out  and  only  the  faint 
light  of  the  moon  showed  the  indistinct  objects  to 
me.  Still  I  could  see  well  enough  up  and  down  the 
ravine  so  that  neither  Indian  could  approach  the 
door  of  the  dugout  without  being  seen.  I  had  been 
standing  on  a  bale  of  skins,  which  enabled  me  to 
look  out  of  the  port-hole,  but  now  got  down  and  cut 
another  port-hole  near  the  bottom  of  the  tent,  so 
that  while  lying  protected  by  the  bales  I  could 
watch  for  the  flash  of  my  neighbor's  gun  when 

260 


SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

next  he  fired.  I  could  not  see  that  the  other  In- 
dian had  attempted  to  recover  his  rifle  and  was 
disposed  to  think  that  my  first  shot  had  perhaps 
made  him  no  longer  dangerous. 

While  still  lying  among  the  bales  of  fur,  looking 
out  of  the  new  port-hole  I  had  cut,  my  neighbor 
up  the  gulch  sent  another  bullet  through  the  tent, 
above  me,  that  would  have  hit  me  if  I  had  remained 
in  my  former  position. 

I  fired  at  the  flash  of  his  gun,  but  could  not  tell 
whether  I  had  done  him  any  harm.  At  all  events, 
he  seemed  discouraged,  for  no  more  shots  came 
from  either  Indian. 

The  hole  I  had  cut  near  the  bottom  of  the  tent 
was  on  the  east  side,  facing  the  stable  door.  The 
two  doors  of  the  tent  were  on  the  north  and  south 
sides.  These  I  untied  and  propped  a  little  open 
so  that  I  could  look  out  either  way  occasionally; 
I  saw  no  further  signs  of  activity  of  the  enemy,  and 
toward  morning,  as  the  air  grew  cold,  I  cut  the 
thongs  that  bound  a  bale  of  buffalo  robes  and 
made  a  fairly  comfortable  bed,  whence  I  could  keep 
a  sharp  lookout. 

It  was  a  long,  dreary,  wretched  night  of  anxiety. 
The  soldiers  did  not  come,  and  without  them  I  could 
see  no  hope  of  escape  for  my  comrades  or  myself. 

As  everything  seemed  so  quiet  in  my  vicinity  I 
slipped  down  into  the  dugout,  through  the  tunnel, 
and  brought  up  some  more  cartridges  and  some 
food  and  cold  coffee. 

261 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

On  looking  out  of  my  port-hole  again  I  noticed 
with  a  hopeless  feeling  that  daylight  was  fast  com- 
ing and  as  yet  no  sign  or  sound  of  the  hoped-for 
rescuers. 

Suddenly  I  detected  the  sound  of  tramping 
horses'  feet,  and  springing  to  my  feet  to  get  a  bet- 
ter view  out  of  the  tent  door,  I  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  the  sounds  came  and  could  see 
indistinctly  a  party  of  mounted  men,  on  the  trot, 
skirting  along  the  foot  of  the  bluffs  just  southeast 
of  camp,  as  though  intending  to  pass  it  from  the 
direction  of  To  hausen's  village. 

"Could  they  be  a  reinforcement  of  Kiowas  going 
to  join  Satank's  party?"  I  asked  myself.  "No, 
they  were  keeping  too  well  closed  up  for  Indians. 
It  must  be  Captain  Saunders'  company,  and  they 
have  somehow  missed  the  trail  that  would  have 
taken  them  to  the  besieged  wagon.  But  why  don't 
they  come  here,  instead  of  going  by  on  the  trot?" 

While  putting  these  puzzling  questions  to  my- 
self I  was  standing  with  the  folds  of  the  tent  door 
slightly  parted,  peeping  out  stealthily,  lest  the 
bullet  of  my  lurking  foe  might  find  me.  When  the 
party  of  mounted  men  were  nearly  opposite  our 
tent  I  noticed  one  from  the  head  of  the  column 
branch  off  and  strike  a  gallop  in  my  direction,  and 
a  moment  later  the  welcome  voice  of  Wild  Bill 
called  out: 

'Halloo,  Peck,  are  you  still  a-kicking?" 

Answering   him  with    an    affirmative   shout,   I 
262 


SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

stepped  out,  forgetting  for  the  moment  the  Indian 
who  was  watching  for  a  shot  at  me.  He  failed  to 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  for  he  saw 
that  he  was  trapped  and  made  a  dash  up  out  of 
the  ravine  and  ran  for  the  nearest  point  of  bushes 
just  back  of  our  burned  haystack. 

I  called  to  Bill,  who  was  on  the  same  side  of  the 
ravine  as  the  fleeing  Kiowa: 

"Head  him  off,  Bill!   Kill  him!  Kill  him!" 

The  scout  instantly  turned  his  horse  and  dashed 
after  the  Indian,  who,  seeing  that  he  could  not 
reach  the  brush  before  being  overtaken,  halted, 
turned,  took  deliberate  aim  at  the  oncoming  horse- 
man, and  fired. 

Down  went  horse  and  rider  in  a  heap.  The 
Kiowa  dropped  his  rifle,  drew  his  knife,  and 
started  forward  to  finish  his  fallen  foe.  As  Bill 
was  now  between  me  and  the  Indian  I  was  afraid 
to  fire  for  fear  of  hitting  my  friend,  who,  I  saw,  was 
struggling  to  free  himself  from  his  dead  horse.  I 
ran  across  the  ravine  to  where  I  thought  I  could 
help  Bill,  and  before  I  reached  the  top  of  the  bank 
on  the  other  side  I  heard  a  shot  and  then  Bill's 
war-whoop. 

When  I  got  in  sight  of  them  again  Bill  was  still 
lying  down,  one  foot  under  his  dead  horse,  and 
the  Kiowa  was  lying  a  few  feet  from  him. 

I  rushed  to  him  and  helped  to  free  him  from  his 
horse.  On  getting  on  his  feet  he  assured  me  that 
he  was  not  hurt,  and  then,  looking  toward  the 

363 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

Kiowa  and  noticing  that  his  enemy  was  not  yet 
dead,  with  an  exultant  war-whoop  Bill  whipped 
out  his  knife,  sprang  to  his  dying  foe,  anxious  to 
scalp  him. 

I  had  been  so  absorbed  in  this  affair  that  I 
had  not  noticed  that  Captain  Saunders  with  his 
troopers  had  turned  out  of  his  course  and  now 
came  galloping  up  to  us;  seeing  which  Bill  called 
out  impatiently  to  the  captain,  waving  him  back: 

"Don't  stop  here,  Cap!  There's  only  one  In- 
jun here,  and  I've  fixed  him!  We're  losing  time, 
and  we've  lost  too  much  already.  I'm  afraid 
them  Kiowas  out  yonder'll  get  away  from  us  yet. 
Shove  your  men  along  out  that  way  lively." 

And  then  suddenly  stopping  to  listen  to  a  rattle 
of  firearms  out  toward  the  wagon,  he  exclaimed: 

"There,  do  you  hear  that?  Your  lieutenant's 
opening  the  ball  out  there  right  now  and  them 
Kiowas'll  be  coming  a-tearing  this  way  in  a  few 
minutes.  String  your  men  out  so's  to  catch  them. 
I'll  overtake  you." 

"But  what  will  you  do  for  a  horse?"  asked 
Saunders  as  he  gave  command  for  moving: 

"I'll  borrow  Peck's  black  horse." 

Saunders  immediately  put  his  men  on  the  gallop 
toward  the  wagon  on  the  prairie. 

Taking  Bill's  hint  of  a  remount,  I  rushed  to  the 
stable  and  got  Prince  out,  while  he  was  getting 
his  saddle  and  bridle  off  his  dead  horse;  and  while 
hurriedly  saddling  the  black  horse  Bill  was  giving 

264 


SURROUNDED  BY  KIOWAS 

me  a  brief  account  of  how  they  came  to  be  here 
at  our  camp  instead  of  at  the  wagon. 

"Found  come  through  to  Fort  Larned  on  time, 
all  right,"  he  said,  "and  wanted  to  come  back 
with  me,  but  I  locked  him  in  my  room.  It  took  an 
everlasting  time  for  Saunders  to  get  his  company 
ready  to  move.  Well,  after  we  started,  I  con- 
cluded that  the  Kiowas  would  hear  us  a-coming 
and  get  away,  unless  we  could  get  around  in  their 
rear.  So  I  got  the  captain  to  divide  his  men, 
leaving  twenty,  under  Lieutenant  Wilson,  to  lay 
around  over  about  Ash  Creek  hollow  until  nigh  day- 
light, and  then  to  move  up  onto  the  Injuns  around 
the  wagon  and  start  them  this  way,  while  with  the 
other  thirty  men  we  got  around  on  this  side  of 
them.  WeVe  been  riding  like  the  devil,  but  it 
was  a  long  ways  to  go  to  get  around  here,  and 
Lieutenant  Wilson  was  to  make  the  attack  on  his 
side  at  daylight,  anyway,  and  he's  a-doing  it  all 
right." 

By  this  time  we  had  Prince  saddled,  and,  spring- 
ing onto  him,  as  he  galloped  after  Saunders's  party 
Bill  called  back  to  me: 

"Keep  a  sharp  lookout,  Peck,  till  we  get  back 
here,  for  there  may  be  some  skulkers  laying  for 
you  in  the  timber  'round  here." 


265 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

/^LANCING  around  as  Bill  galloped  away,  I 
^-*  plainly  saw,  in  the  bushes  at  the  edge  of  the 
timber  back  of  our  burnt  haystack,  two  Indian 
ponies  tied  to  some  bushes,  with  saddles  and 
bridles  on.  They  were  the  mounts  of  the  two 
Kiowas  who  had  entertained  me  throughout  the 
night  and  one  of  whom  Bill  had  just  killed. 

The  other  fellow,  who  set  fire  to  the  haystack, 
I  supposed  had  made  good  his  escape. 

And,  as  I  thought  this,  I  naturally  turned  to 
look  at  the  spot  from  where  he  had  fired  the  burn- 
ing arrow. 

"I'm  sure  I  hit  him  when  I  shot  at  him  out  of 
the  tent,"  I  said  to  myself.  "I  wonder  if  I  hurt 
him  much?  I'll  just  step  down  there  and  see  if 
there  is  any  blood  on  the  ground." 

As  I  approached  the  spot  I  saw  something  like 
the  end  of  a  dirty  blanket  showing  from  behind  the 
jutting  bank  where  he  had  been  concealed,  and, 
fearing  that  the  Indian,  wounded,  might  be  lying 
there  waiting  to  shoot  me,  I  cocked  my  rifle  and 
crept  cautiously  around  to  where  I  could  see  be- 
hind the  projecting  bank;  and  there  lay  the  Indian, 

266 


CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

sure  enough,  but  without  sign  of  life.  On  a  nearer 
approach  I  found  he  was  dead  and  cold — probably 
having  bled  to  death  soon  after  I  had  shot  him. 

On  turning  the  body  over  to  get  a  good  look  at 
his  face,  I  was  somewhat  astonished  to  recognize 
the  features  of  old  Broken  Nose,  the  medicine-man 
from  To  hausen's  camp. 

Leaving  the  body  where  it  was,  I  hurried  back 
to  the  tent  to  climb  up  on  the  derrick  with  the 
field-glass,  anxious  to  see  what  I  could  of  the  fight 
between  the  Kiowas  and  soldiers  out  on  the  prai- 
rie. There  was  not  much  to  see. 

Saunders'  party  had  been  delayed  too  long  in 
making  the  detour  to  get  in  the  rear  of  the  enemy. 
Lieutenant  Wilson  had  made  his  attack  at  day- 
light, according  to  orders,  and  the  Indians,  aban- 
doning their  siege  of  the  wagon,  were  retreating 
to  the  nearest  point  of  the  Walnut  Creek  timber. 

From  my  stand  I  could  see  Saunders'  party  try- 
ing to  cut  off  the  fleeing  Indians  from  the  timber, 
but  they  seemed  to  succeed  in  intercepting  only  a 
few  of  the  hindmost  ones.  Saunders,  Wild  Bill, 
and  party  went  on  in  pursuit  of  the  fleeing  Kiowas 
until  they  passed  out  of  sight  behind  a  point  of 
timber. 

Turning  my  glass  toward  the  wagon,  I  could 
see  a  party  of  soldiers  gathered  around  it.  Soon 
the  wagon  started  moving  toward  our  camp,  ac- 
companied by  the  mounted  men.  The  soldiers 
must  have  recaptured  the  mules  and  harness. 

267 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

As  the  wagon  party  came  down  the  grade  from 
the  upland  at  a  brisk  trot,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
they  would  all  be  as  hungry  as  coyotes,  and,  rush- 
ing down  into  the  dugout,  I  began  doing  what  I 
could  to  prepare  something  for  them  to  eat. 

Lieutenant  Wilson  came  galloping  on  ahead  to 
tell  me  the  results  of  the  fight  at  his  end  of  the  line, 
not  knowing  that  I  had  witnessed  nearly  all  of  it 
through  the  glass.  Jack  and  Tom,  he  said,  were 
both  wounded,  but  not  seriously.  They  had  killed 
three  Kiowas  and  two  ponies  before  the  soldiers 
arrived,  and  the  latter  had  killed  five  more  Indians 
and  captured  several  ponies  in  the  attack  at  day- 
light. 

I  told  the  lieutenant  what  arrangement  I 
had  planned  for  feeding  his  men — which  he  said 
would  be  satisfactory — and  also  that  we  had  grain 
enough  to  give  his  horses  a  feed  but  no  hay. 

As  the  wagon  came  up  I  rushed  to  it  to  con- 
gratulate my  comrades  on  their  escape  and  to  as- 
certain the  extent  of  their  injuries. 

"Only  a  few  scratches,"  said  Jack  indifferently, 
in  spite  of  his  pale  looks,  as  he  climbed  out  of  the 
wagon  with  his  left  arm  in  a  sling.  "I  got  an 
arrow  through  me  arm,  but  Tom  is  worse  hurted 
—a  bullet  through  his  thigh  but  no  bones  broke. 
Have  you  anything  to  eat?" 

I  helped  Tom  out  and  supported  him  on  one  side 
as  he  hobbled  down  to  the  dugout.  Meantime, 
the  lieutenant  and  his  troopers  were  taking  care 

268 


CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

of  their  horses,  after  which  some  of  them  unhar- 
nessed the  mules  for  us  while  others  started  a  fire 
and  began  to  cook  their  breakfast. 

As  I  entered  the  dugout  with  Tom,  I  no- 
ticed my  blankets  lying  on  the  floor,  where  I  had 
dropped  them  on  my  hurried  entry  the  night 
before,  and  after  helping  the  old  man  to  a  seat  I 
gathered  up  the  bedding  to  make  him  a  pallet. 
In  doing  this  the  bullet  that  old  Broken  Nose  had 
fired  into  the  bundle  dropped  to  the  floor. 

"There,  Tom,"  I  said  as  I  picked  it  up  and 
handed  it  to  him,  "is  a  last  token  from  your  old 
friend,  Broken  Nose." 

"What?  Has  the  old  rascal  been  here?  Why 
didn't  you  kill  him?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"I  did.  He's  lying  down  the  ravine  yonder,  a 
little  way.  He  and  another  had  me  corralled  here 
all  night,  but  I  got  Broken  Nose  and  Wild  Bill 
got  the  other." 

While  I  cooked  breakfast  I  told  them  all  about 
my  little  affair  of  the  past  night. 

"While  the  coffee's  a-boiling,  lieutenant,"  said 
Jack  after  I  had  finished,  "come  on  and  we'll  go 
and  take  a  look  at  the  dead  Injuns.  I  want  to 
make  sure  that  they're  good  and  dead." 

As  they  started  out  I  called  to  them: 

"While  you're  at  it,  go  over  to  the  brush  yon- 
der, behind  the  burnt  haystack,  and  bring  in  the 
two  Indians'  ponies.  I  haven't  had  time  to  gather 
them  in  yet." 

269 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

In  a  little  while  they  returned,  bringing  the 
horses  and  tying  them  to  the  wagon. 

"You  and  Bill  sure  did  a  good  job  on  them 
two,"  said  Jack  as  he  and  Wilson  re-entered  the 
cabin.  "I'm  only  sorry  I  didn't  have  the  pleasure 
of  doing  the  business  for  old  Broken  Nose  myself, 
for  I  was  owing  him  that." 

We  had  just  finished  eating  our  breakfast  when 
one  of  the  soldiers  called  out: 

"Here  comes  Wild  Bill  riding  like  the  devil  was 
after  him!  Wonder  what's  up?" 

Looking  in  the  direction  that  Saunders's  party 
had  gone,  we  saw  the  scout  coming  back  alone, 
riding  rapidly. 

When  he  reached  us  he  said  that  Captain  Saun- 
ders  and'  two  of  his  men  were  wounded,  one  horse 
killed  and  several  wounded.  One  soldier  was 
thought  to  be  fatally  hurt;  and  Bill  had  come  for 
our  team  and  wagon  to  haul  them  to  our  camp,  as 
the  two  soldiers  were  unable  to  sit  on  their  horses. 

We  were  soon  busy  hitching  up  the  mules  while 
Bill  gave  us  the  particulars  of  their  fight.  It  ap- 
peared that  in  chasing  the  fleeing  Kiowas,  Bill, 
accompanied  by  several  soldiers,  had  become  sep- 
arated from  Saunders  and  the  main  party,  and  the 
scout,  not  being  at  hand  to  guide  the  captain,  the 
latter  in  his  eager  pursuit  of  the  enemy  had  made 
the  mistake  of  closely  following  the  Indians  into 
the  timber,  which  blunder  they  had  anticipated 
and  had  ambushed  the  soldiers. 

270 


CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

"I  thought  Cap.  knew  better  than  that,"  said 
Bill,  "but  it  was  partly  my  fault.  I  knew  he'd 
never  fought  Injuns  before,  and  I  ought  to  have 
stayed  with  him  and  stopped  him  short  of  the 
brush." 

In  spite  of  his  crippled  condition,  old  Tom  came 
hobbling  out  of  the  dugout,  with  his  little  medi- 
cine-chest and  a  bundle  of  rags  under  his  arm  for 
bandages,  and  insisted  on  going  with  the  team  to 
do  what  he  could  for  the  wounded. 

Jack's  wounded  arm  prevented  him  from  han- 
dling the  team,  so  we  left  him  in  camp  and  I  went 
along  to  drive  the  mules.  Lieutenant  Wilson  had 
received  orders  to  remain  at  our  camp  with  his 
detachment  until  further  orders. 

After  being  helped  into  the  wagon,  Tom's  fore- 
sight prompted  him  to  call  to  me: 

"Peck,  throw  in  some  bedding  and  get  some 
grub — sugar,  coffee,  hardtack,  and  meat — to  take 
along,  and  a  camp  kettle  and  frying-pan  and  a 
few  tin  cups." 

I  remembered  the  bale  of  buffalo  robes  I  had  cut 
open  in  the  tent  the  night  before  for  my  own  com- 
fort and,  calling  one  of  the  soldiers  to  help  me, 
brought  them  out  and  tumbled  them  into  the 
wagon,  with  the  desired  rations  and  utensils.  I 
then  took  the  lines  and  whip  and  started  at  a  trot, 
guided  by  Wild  Bill  riding  alongside. 

As  we  trotted  along  I  asked  the  scout: 

"How  many  Kiowas  did  you  and  Saunders' 
party  kill?" 

271 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"The  returns  are  not  all  in  yet,"  replied  Bill, 
"but  I  think  we  got  seven  or  eight.  I  got  three 
of  them  for  my  share.  That  was  all  I  could  catch 
before  they  got  into  the  timber;  and,  of  course, 
when  they  got  to  the  brush  I  had  to  give  up  the 
chase  and  let  them  go." 

"It's  most  too  good  a  thing  to  hope  that  old 
Satank'll  be  found  among  the  killed,"  said  Tom. 

"No,  I'm  afraid  we'll  not  find  him  among  them," 
replied  Bill  regretfully,  "for  I  reckon  his  luck  has 
saved  him  again,  unless  he  may  be  among  them 
that  were  killed  out  near  the  wagon.  If  I  can  get 
time  I'll  ride  around  over  the  prairie  and  take  a 
good  look  at  all  of  them,  and  the  old  rascal  may  be 
found  among  them;  but  I'll  be  surprised  if  he  is, 
for  he  has  wonderful  luck  in  getting  out  of  tight 
places." 

"Don't  you  think,  Bill,"  I  asked,  "that  this  was 
rather  a  badly  managed  expedition  of  old  Satank's, 
considering  that  he  has  the  reputation  of  being 
such  a  successful  raider?" 

"Yes,  he's  made  a  bad  mess  of  it  this  time,  sure, 
and  a  few  more  such  failures'll  cause  his  followers 
to  choose  another  leader.  I  think  he's  losing  his 
grip  on  the  war-path,  and  we'll  soon  see  Satanta 
or  Big  Tree  coming  to  the  front  as  leader  of  the 
hostile  Kiowas.  When  what's  left  of  these  fellows 
get  back  to  their  big  village  and  count  noses, 
there'll  be  such  a  howl  against  old  Satank  that  I 
don't  believe  he'll  ever  be  able  to  get  much  of  a 

272 


CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

following  again.  You  mark  what  I  tell  you,  Sa- 
tanta  or  Big  Tree  is  going  to  be  the  war  chief  of  the 
Kiowas  hereafter." 

We  found  Captain  Saunders  and  his  men  about 
two  miles  above  our  camp,  dismounted  in  the  edge 
of  the  timber  near  the  old  Indian  camp,  anxiously 
awaiting  our  arrival.  Saunders  himself  had  his 
head  roughly  bandaged  with  an  old  handkerchief 
because  of  a  glancing  arrow  wound  above  his  right 
ear,  which  had  bled  profusely  over  his  face  and 
clothes  but  was  not  serious.  His  horse  had  re- 
ceived a  bullet  in  the  shoulder  which  lamed  him 
badly. 

Supposing  from  Saunders'  appearance  that  he 
was  badly  hurt,  Tom  was  going  to  him  to  dress  his 
wounds  when  the  captain  said: 

"Never  mind  me,  Mr.  Vance;  I'm  not  hurt 
much;  but  if  you  can  help  poor  Dolan  there,  lying 
behind  that  tree,  do  what  you  can  for  him.  He  is 
badly  hurt — spitting  blood  and  growing  weaker — " 
talking  as  he  led  the  way  to  where  the  wounded 
man  lay.  "An  arrow  went  through  his  breast 
and  lodged  in  the  neck  of  a  horse  a  couple  of  rods 
behind  him.  I  had  no  idea  they  could  shoot  those 
arrows  so  viciously." 

On  examining  Dolan's  wound,  Tom's  experience 
told  him  that  the  man  was  past  any  help  that  he 
could  render,  for  the  arrow  had  gone  through  the 
lung,  and  an  inward  hemorrhage  seemed  to  be 
slowly  sapping  his  life.  Dressing  the  wound  and 

273 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

giving  the  man  a  stimulant,  Tom  and  the  captain 
consulted  together  for  a  moment  and  then  in- 
formed the  patient  that,  though  his  case  was  quite 
serious,  it  was  not  altogether  hopeless  and  that 
his  only  chance  was  to  be  hurried  back  to  Fort 
Larned,  where  the  post  surgeon  could  give  him 
proper  attention. 

The  other  man  who  had  been  reported  wounded 
had  a  broken  arm.  Tom  splinted  and  bandaged 
it,  and  the  two  were  soon  made  comparatively 
comfortable  among  the  buffalo  robes  in  the  wagon. 
Several  others  had  received  slight  wounds  but 
were  "able  for  duty." 

While  this  had  been  going  on,  Saunders'  men 
had  gotten  out  the  grub  and  utensils,  fried  some 
meat  and  made  some  coffee  and  now  called  us  up 
to  eat.  This  was  the  first  intimation  to  Saunders 
that  there  was  such  a  luxury  as  food  in  the  outfit, 
and  as  he  sniffed  the  pleasant  aroma  of  the  boiling 
coffee  he  turned  to  Tom  and  me  and  thanked  us 
for  our  thoughtfulness. 

"Captain,"  said  Tom  after  we  had  eaten,  "it's 
time  that  team  was  on  the  way  to  Fort  Larned. 
What  are  your  plans  for  getting  these  men  there? 
If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  I'm  at  your  ser- 


vice." 


"Thanks,"  replied  Saunders.  "My  plan  is  to 
send  a  half  dozen  men  along  with  the  wagon  as  an 
escort  and  some  responsible  man  in  charge.  I 
will  then  move  down  to  your  camp  and,  taking 

274 


CAPTAIN  SAUNDERS'  FIGHT 

Wilson  and  party  from  there,  move  on  down  to 
To  hausen's  village  and  try  to  find  out  whether 
his  people  have  been  harboring  these  hostiles;  and 
then  to-morrow  we'll  all  move  into  the  fort.  I 
will  send  a  requisition  in  by  the  team  to  bring  out 
some  grain  for  the  horses  to-morrow  and  any  other 
supplies  that  we  may  need.  It  will  be  best  that 
we  stay  and  see  you  all  safely  into  Fort  Larned." 
Then  turning  to  Wild  Bill,  he  asked:  "Do  you 
think,  Bill,  that  six  men  will  be  a  sufficient  escort 
to  go  with  the  wagon  and  wounded  men — do  you 
think  there  is  any  danger  of  their  meeting  hostile 
Kiowas?" 

"None  but  dead  ones,"  replied  Bill.  "The  team 
can  go  through  all  right  now." 

"Well,"  said  Saunders,  "I  had  thought  of  ask- 
ing Mr.  Vance  or  Mr.  Peck  to  take  charge  of  the 
wounded  men  and  see  them  through." 

"Tom'll  be  the  man  for  that,"  suggested  Bill, 
"for  the  wounded  men  may  need  some  help  on 
the  way." 

"Well,  that's  settled,"  said  Tom  impatiently,  as 
he  started  for  the  wagon  without  waiting  for  the 
captain's  decision.  "Captain,  please  detail  the 
escort  and  start  them  on  after  me;  they  can  soon 
overtake  us."  And,  climbing  into  the  wagon,  he 
took  up  the  whip  and  lines  and  started. 

The  captain  quickly  mounted  the  escort  and 
hurried  them  after  the  wagon;  and  then  he  him- 
self mounted  the  horse  of  one  of  the  wounded 

275 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

men  and  we  set  out  for  our  camp,  I  riding  one  of 
the  Kiowa  ponies  captured  in  the  fight. 

The  horses  were  a  rather  scrawny-looking  lot, 
as  the  Indian  ponies  generally  are  at  this  season 
of  the  year — the  result  of  starvation  through  the 
winter — but,  no  doubt,  there  was  in  them  good 
mettle  that  would  show  itself  as  soon  as  the  grass 
came;  for  the  Indian  warrior  always  selects  his 
fleetest  and  toughest  horse  to  ride  when  going  on 
the  war-path. 

Arrived  at  the  camp,  Captain  Saunders  had  his 
men  unsaddle  and  water  their  horses  and  picket 
them  out  for  an  hour's  rest  before  starting  down  to 
To  hausen's  village. 

Some  of  Lieutenant  Wilson's  men  had  killed 
several  antelope  and  had  cooked  up  a  great  lot  of 
the  meat,  anticipating  that  Saunders'  men  would 
come  in  hungry,  as  they  did.  Saunders,  Wilson, 
Bill,  and  I  adjourned  to  the  dugout  to  eat  the 
meal  Jack  had  prepared  for  us. 

While  we  were  eating  I  told  Captain  Saunders 
something  of  my  experience  of  the  previous  night 
and  exhibited  the  bullet  that  old  Broken  Nose 
had  fired  into  the  bundle  of  blankets  in  my  arms, 


CHAPTER  XXV 
WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

'T^HE  captain's  party  returned  from  To  haus- 
•*•  en's  village  about  sunset.  He  said  that  he 
had  had  an  amicable  and  satisfactory  talk  with 
the  old  chief  and  his  followers,  all  of  whom  reit- 
erated their  former  professions  of  friendship  for 
the  whites  and  declared  that  they  would  have 
no  intercourse  with  the  hostiles. 

"We've  got  to  take  that,"  said  Wild  Bill,  who 
had  been  interpreter  at  the  talk,  "with  a  grain  of 
salt,  for  while  I  was  there  I  found  out,  by  pumping 
some  of  their  youngsters  and  women,  that  they 
were  pretty  well  posted  about  the  whole  affair  up 
to  the  time  that  Lieutenant  Wilson  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance and  stampeded  them  this  morning,  which 
goes  to  show  that  a  few  of  To  hausen's  bucks 
were  with  Satank  up  to  that  time;  and  in  the 
stampede  these  fellows  must  have  skedaddled  back 
to  To  hausen's  camp  and  told  about  the  fight 
as  far  as  they  had  been  in  it.  But  they  didn't 
seem  to  know  about  our  part  of  the  fight  up  the 
creek  nor  about  old  Broken  Nose  and  this  other 
Indian  getting  their  medicine  here.  I  told  them 
about  that  part  of  it.  And,  to  make  it  appear  like 

277 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

old  Nosey  had  gotten  just  what  was  coming  to 
him,  I  told  them  that  the  man  who  got  away  with 
him  was  the  same  one  that  old  Nosey  had  tried  to 
burn  up  when  he  set  fire  to  the  grass  out  in  the 
bottom  that  day." 

"  Good  for  you,  Bill ! "  exclaimed  Jack.  "  I  don't 
want  to  rob  Peck  of  the  credit,  but  it's  better  to 
let  his  people  think  that  I  evened  up  with  the  old 
rascal  at  last." 

After  supper,  as  night  settled  down,  the  cold 
wind  reminded  us  of  another  difficulty  that  few 
of  us  had  yet  thought  of.  What  were  we  to  do  for 
bedding  for  the  soldiers  who  had  come  away  from 
the  garrison  in  a  hurry  without  any  thought  of 
being  out  overnight? 

About  tattoo  the  rattling  of  a  wagon  was  heard 
out  on  the  trail  toward  Fort  Larned.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  Tom  could  be  coming  back  from 
the  fort  so  soon  with  our  mule  team,  but  a  wagon 
was  approaching  from  that  direction. 

We  were  all  out  upon  the  bank  looking  and 
listening  and  speculating  as  to  who  the  coming 
parties  could  be  when  we  heard  the  sentry  on 
that  side  of  the  grounds  challenge:  "Halt!  Who 
comes  there?"  And  then,  apparently  assuming 
the  right  to  pass  upon  the  credentials  of  the  new- 
comers without  the  regulation  formality  of  calling 
for  the  sergeant  of  the  guard,  the  sentry  admitted 
two  mounted  men,  who  came  cantering  up  to  the 
camp-fire. 

278 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

The  arrivals  were  two  troopers  who  reported 
that  a  little  way  behind  them  two  six-mule  teams 
were  coming,  escorted  by  a  dozen  cavalrymen 
under  charge  of  a  sergeant.  They  had  been  sent 
out  by  the  commanding  officer,  at  Tom's  sugges- 
tion, as  quickly  as  they  could  be  hitched  up  after 
our  team  with  the  wounded  men  had  arrived  at 
the  fort. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  teams  and  escort  came  up, 
admitted  by  the  sentry.  We  soon  learned  the  re- 
sults of  Tom's  trip.  The  badly  wounded  soldier, 
Dolan,  had  died  shortly  after  Tom's  arrival  at  the 
post.  On  reaching  the  fort  Tom  drove  immedi- 
ately to  the  adjutant's  office  and  reported  to  the 
commanding  officer  the  result  of  the  fight  and  the 
condition  of  the  wounded,  and  then  hurried  on  to 
the  hospital,  followed  by  the  major  and  several 
other  officers  and  soldiers,  all  eager  to  learn  all  the 
particulars. 

By  this  time  Tom's  wounded  leg  had  made  him 
so  lame  that  he  realized  the  impossibility  of  his 
returning  to  our  camp  with  the  supplies;  and  our 
mule  team,  also,  was  not  in  condition  to  return 
immediately,  so  he  suggested  to  the  major  that  a 
couple  of  six-mule  teams  be  quickly  hitched  up 
and  started  under  escort  for  the  camp  with  ra- 
tions and  feed  for  Saunders'  men  and  horses;  and 
he  very  thoughtfully,  also,  advised  sending  the 
blankets  of  Saunders'  troopers,  all  of  which  was 
promptly  ordered. 

279 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

One  team  would  have  been  ample  to  have  taken 
the  supplies  to  Saunders,  but  Tom  calculated  that 
by  sending  two  the  second  team,  in  the  absence 
of  our  own,  could  be  used,  in  returning  next  day, 
to  move  our  plunder  into  the  post. 

Captain  Saunders  could  not  say  enough  in  praise 
of  the  old  man's  forethought  and  unselfishness. 
"He  is  certainly  a  valuable  man  among  soldiers," 
he  said,  "for  he  always  seems  to  ki*ow  what  to 
do  and  how  to  do  it." 

"Cap,"  interjected  Wild  Bill,  "you  will  please 
bear  in  mind  that  I  suggested  that  Tom  was  the 
man  to  send  on  that  trip." 

"So  you  did,"  admitted  Saunders,  "and  you 
certainly  knew  your  man." 

I  had  assigned  the  use  of  our  tent  to  Captain 
Saunders'  guard  detail;  and  by  stuffing  a  bale  of 
skins  into  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  under  the  tri- 
pod, to  stop  the  draught,  and  carrying  the  other 
bales  outside,  they  made  for  themselves  very  com- 
fortable quarters. 

The  other  men  made  their  beds  on  the  open 
prairie,  outside  the  tent,  with  their  saddles  for  pil- 
lows; and  most  of  them  turned  in  early,  to  get  out 
of  the  cold  night  wind  and  from  weariness,  while 
a  few  still  sat  around  the  camp-fire  talking  over 
the  events  of  the  day. 

The  officers  and  Wild  Bill  prepared  to  sleep  with 
us  in  the  cabin,  and  after  we  had  spread  down  our 
beds  I  spoke  to  Bill  about  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing and  the  loss  of  his  horse. 

280 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

"Yes/1  said  he,  "there  ain't  but  one  horse  in  the 
country  that's  as  good  as  my  Charlie,  and  maybe 
a  little  better  in  some  ways,  and  that's  your  Black 
Prince;  and  I'm  going  to  try  to  coax  you  boys  to 
sell  me  that  horse  because  I've  fell  in  love  with 
him  and  I  need  him  bad  in  my  business." 

"Why,  Bill,"  said  Jack,  laughing  heartily  at  the 
scout's  guilelessness,  "you  ain't  no  sort  of  a  horse 
trader.  When  you  want  to  buy  a  man's  horse 
you  should  run  him  down  and  make  him  out  no 
account  instead  of  bragging  on  him." 

"If  I  was  dealing  with  horse-jockeys  I  might  do 
that  way,"  returned  Bill,  "but  when  I'm  a-dealing 
with  honest  men  who  I  know  won't  take  any  ad- 
vantage of  me  I  like  to  deal  on  the  square  with 
them;  and  I  tell  you,  honest  Injun,  that  Black 
Prince  is  about  the  best  horse  I  ever  threw  a  leg 
over.  I've  heard  that  you  boys  have  refused  an 
offer  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  from  some 
of  the  officers  at  the  fort.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do,  I'll  give  you  three  hundred  for  him;  and 
if  that  ain't  enough  I'll  give  you  more.  I  ain't 
got  the  money  with  me,  but  when  we  get  over  to 
the  fort  I  can  get  it  from  Weisselbaum.  Now, 
what  do  you  say  to  that?" 

It  was  amusing  to  listen  to  the  unsophisticated 
proposition  of  this  free-hearted,  unselfish  fellow. 
He  did  not  take  into  consideration  that  he  had 
just  rendered  each  of  us  a  service  of  far  greater 
value  than  several  such  horses.  He  did  not  con- 

281 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

sider  that  we  were  in  any  way  indebted  to  him  on 
account  of  his  horse  being  killed  in  our  service. 
No;  that  was  merely  one  of  the  misfortunes  of  war. 

But  Tom,  Jack,  and  I,  although  we  had  not  said 
a  word  to  each  other  about  it,  had  each  mentally 
decided  that  we  ought  to  present  the  black  horse 
to  Wild  Bill  to  make  good  his  loss  and  to  show 
our  appreciation  of  his  manly  response  and  price- 
less service  in  our  hour  of  need. 

In  reply  to  his  question,  "What  do  you  say?" 
and  an  expressive  look  from  Jack,  I  said : 

"Not  having  consulted  my  partners  about  the 
matter,  Bill,  of  course  I  can't  speak  for  them,  but 
I  think  it's  a  safe  guess  that  you'll  get  the  horse; 
and  there  is  plenty  of  time  in  the  future  to  settle 
on  the  price." 

"Well,  now,  that's  the  way  I  like  to  hear  you 
talk,"  said  he  with  a  gratified  smile.  "When  we 
get  over  to  the  fort,  you  and  Jack  can  talk  it  over 
with  Tom  and  let  me  know  the  price  you  agree 
on,  and  I'll  dig  up  the  money." 

The  night  passed  quietly.  As  Bill  had  said,  the 
hostiles  had  been  too  badly  whipped  to  think  of 
returning  to  attack  us.  After  breakfast  next 
morning  the  horses  were  saddled  and  the  wagons 
packed;  and  marching  out  on  the  Fort  Larned 
trail,  the  company  moved  first  in  "column  of 
fours,"  followed  by  the  two  six-mule  teams,  and 
then  came  the  "cavvy-yard,"  driven  by  the  men 
of  the  guard  acting  as  "rear-guard."  Bill,  Jack, 

282 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

and  I  rode  at  the  head  of  the  column  with  the 
company  officers. 

As  we  reached  the  crest  of  the  grade  coming 
onto  the  upland,  about  two  miles  from  our  recent 
camp,  with  the  officers  we  turned  out  on  the  side 
of  the  trail  as  the  command  marched  by,  to  take 
a  parting  look  at  Camp  Coyotelope;  and  we  no- 
ticed what  appeared  to  be  a  number  of  Indians — 
some  mounted  and  some  afoot — moving  about  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  dugouts. 

"Some  of  To  hausen's  people,"  suggested  Bill, 
"looking  after  the  bodies  of  old  Nosey  and  his 
pard  and  gathering  up  the  leavings  about  the  old 
camp.  They'll  take  them  two  dead  bucks  back 
to  their  camp  and  bury  them." 

I  had  dismounted  and  taken  out  our  field-glass 
to  get  a  better  view  of  the  Indians  and  verified 
the  scout's  surmise,  for  I  could  plainly  see  a  group 
gathered  about  the  body  of  each  of  the  two  dead 
Indians,  apparently  lifting  them  onto  their  ponies. 

!< There,  Peck,"  said  Bill,  noticing  the  field-glass 
I  held,  "is  another  thing  I'd  like  to  buy  or  trade 
you  out  of,  for  I  got  mine  broke  yesterday  morn- 
ing when  my  horse  fell  with  me;  and  I  need  glasses, 
and  you're  going  back  to  Leavenworth  where  you 
can  easy  get  another  pair."  As  he  took  the  glass 
to  examine  it,  he  asked:  "How  much  is  it 
worth?" 

"It  cost  us  twenty  dollars  in  Leavenworth,"  I 
replied.  "They  are  handy  things  to  have  on  the 

283 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

plains,  but  we  won't  need  it  much  going  back  to 
the  settlements.  I'll  speak  to  Tom  about  it  and 
I  guess  we'll  let  you  have  it  when  we  get  ready  to 
start  on  the  home-stretch  from  Fort  Larned." 

"Well,  it  ought  to  be  worth  more  out  here  than 
it  cost  you  in  Leavenworth  and  I'll  pay  you  what- 
ever you  think  it's  worth.  Of  course,  I  ain't  got 
the  money  now,  for  it's  going  to  take  all  I  can 
borrow,  I  reckon,  to  pay  you  for  this  horse;  but 
if  you'll  trust  me  till  I  come  in  to  Leavenworth, 
I'll  pay  you  then — that  is  I'm  supposing  that  you 
fellows  will  hang  up  in  Leavenworth  for  a  while — 
anyway,  till  you  blow  in  your  money." 

"Well,  as  to  Tom  and  me,"  remarked  Jack,  "I 
believe  each  of  us  has  planned  to  take  a  trip  East 
when  we  get  in,  but  I  think  it'll  be  a  safe  wager 
that  you'll  find  Peck  about  Leavenworth,  for 
there's  a  curly-headed  girl  there  that  he  talks 
about  in  his  sleep." 

"Well,  that  do  settle  it,"  said  Bill  with  a  chuckle 
and  a  wink  at  Jack. 

As  we  passed  over  the  recent  battle-field,  we  rode 
around  and  looked  at  the  bodies  of  all  the  dead 
Kiowas,  hoping  though  hardly  expecting  to  find 
Satank,  but  were  disappointed — the  murderous 
old  fiend  had  escaped  again.  These  bodies  were 
all  considerably  torn  by  the  wolves,  but  their  fea- 
tures were  still  in  good  enough  condition  to  have 
enabled  us  to  identify  him  had  he  been  among 
the  fallen.  An  inscrutable  Providence  permitted 

284 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

this  bloodthirsty  demon  to  roam  the  plains  for 
several  years  longer. 

As  we  neared  the  post,  several  officers  and  sol- 
diers came  out  to  meet  us,  anxious  to  hear  all  about 
the  fight.  The  cavvy-yard  of  captured  ponies, 
with  their  Indian  saddles  and  bridles,  together 
with  other  trophies  of  the  fight  carried  by  Saun- 
ders'  men,  attracted  much  attention.  Saunders' 
men  seemed  much  elated  over  the  fact  that  this, 
their  first  engagement  with  the  Indians,  had  been 
so  successfully  planned  and  executed. 

As  the  captain  with  his  company  turned  ofF  to 
their  stable,  Bill,  Jack,  and  I,  accompanied  by  the 
six-mule  team  carrying  our  plunder,  moved  on 
through  the  garrison  and  established  our  camp 
about  a  half  mile  below,  in  a  snug  bend  of  Paw- 
nee Fork. 

After  unloading  our  stuff  from  the  wagon,  we 
sent  the  team  back  to  the  garrison  and  then  set 
about  pitching  our  tent  and  making  ourselves  com- 
fortable, for  we  expected  to  have  to  remain  here 
several  days,  partly  on  Tom's  account  and  partly 
to  wait  for  Kitchen's  train,  which  was  coming  in 
from  New  Mexico,  by  which  we  expected  to  ship 
our  wolfskins  to  Leavenworth,  provided  we  did 
not  sell  them  here. 

After  getting  everything  in  shape,  leaving  Jack 
to  mind  camp  and  cook  dinner,  Bill  and  I  returned 
to  the  post  to  call  on  Tom  at  the  hospital,  to  re- 
lease Found,  who  was  still  locked  in  Bill's  room, 
and  to  bring  our  mule  team  back  to  camp. 

285 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

We  found  the  old  man  still  badly  crippled  from 
the  wound  in  his  thigh,  but  the  doctor  thought  he 
would  be  able  to  travel  in  a  few  days. 

The  faithful  dog  was  glad  to  see  us  and  to  be 
released.  He  was  quite  hungry,  for  he  had  had 
nothing  to  eat  since  the  feed  I  gave  him  in  the 
dugout  before  starting  him  with  the  message  to 
Bill. 

As  I  was  hitching  up  our  mule  team  at  Saun- 
ders'  company  stable,  the  captain  came  by  and  in- 
sisted on  my  going  with  him  to  the  commissary 
and  loading  in  some  rations  and  feed  which  he  had 
procured  a  requisition  for,  to  replace  the  supplies 
that  his  men  and  horses  had  consumed  at  Camp 
Coyotelope. 

The  work  of  settling  up  o\ir  business  affairs  and 
getting  everything  ready  for  the  return  trip  now 
devolved  upon  me,  though  I  had  the  benefit  of 
consultation  with  Tom  on  all  matters  of  impor- 
tance. 

As  already  stated,  our  winter's  catch  of  wolf- 
skins numbered  something  over  three  thousand. 
These  were  all  dried  and  baled  in  one  of  Weissel- 
baum's  warerooms.  About  one  fourth  of  these 
pelts  were  of  the  large  gray  wolves,  or  "lobos,"  as 
the  Mexicans  call  them,  which,  at  that  time,  were 
rated  on  the  plains  at  one  dollar  and  twenty-five 
cents  each.  The  other  three  fourths  were  coy- 
otes, worth  seventy-five  cents  each.  Besides  these, 
there  were  several  bales  of  the  skins  of  the  little 

286 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

yellow  fox,  worth  twenty-five  cents  each.  At 
these  figures,  the  entire  lot  should  bring  us  some- 
thing over  twenty-six  hundred  dollars.  On  Tom's 
advice  I  offered  the  whole  to  Weisselbaum  for 
twenty-five  hundred,  but  he  seemed  to  think  he 
could  get  them  for  less  and  held  off. 

One  day  when  negotiations  had  reached  this 
stage,  Kitchen's  mule  train  rolled  in  and  camped 
near  us.  This  brought  business  to  a  focus  with 
Weisselbaum  and  he  immediately  hurried  down 
to  our  camp,  accepted  my  offer,  and  wrote  me  out 
a  check  on  Clark  &  Gruber*  (M.  E.  Clark  &  E.  H. 
Gruber),  bankers  of  Leavenworth  city,  for  twenty- 
five  hundred  dollars.  In  addition  to  this,  I  drew 
from  his  safe  the  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
that  we  had  deposited  with  him. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  in  the  dry,  pure 
atmosphere  of  the  plains,  flesh  wounds  heal  with 
astonishing  rapidity.  It  may  have  been,  in  Tom's 
case,  that  the  satisfactory  closing  up  of  our  busi- 
ness affairs  had  something  to  do  with  it,  but  about 
this  time  Jack  and  I  were  astonished  as  well  as 
pleased  to  see  Tom  come  limping  into  camp  and 
report  for  duty. 

Bill  had  sent  word  by  Tom  that  he,  Captain 
Saunders,  and  Lieutenant  Wilson  were  coming 
down  to  take  supper  with  us,  and  just  after  retreat 
all  three  rode  into  camp  accompanied  by  Found. 

*This  firm  about  this  time  minted  private  gold  coins  known  as 
Pike's  Peak  coins. 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"Now,  boys/'  said  Bill  as  he  dismounted  and 
tied  Black  Prince  to  the  wagon,  "you  haven't  told 
me  yet  how  much  you're  going  to  tax  me  for  this 
horse,  and  if  you'll  let  me  know  I'll  go  right  up  to 
Weisselbaum's  and  get  the  greenbacks  for  you, 
for  he  said  he'd  let  me  have  them." 

"We've  talked  the  matter  over,  Bill,"  said  Tom, 
speaking  for  our  party,  "an'  have  concluded  that, 
seeing  as  how  you  lost  your  best  horse  in  our 
service,  and  in  consideration  of  the  good  service 
you've  done  us  all  the  way  along,  an'  old-time 
friendship  and  so  forth,  that  it'll  be  no  more'n 
right  for  us  to  make  you  a  present  of  Black  Prince, 
subject  only  to  the  condition  that  if  the  rightful 
owner  of  the  horse  ever  turns  up  and  claims  him 
you'll  then  have  to  make  terms  with  him;  but 
that's  a  very  remote  possibility." 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Tom?  Is  that  so,  boys?" 
asked  the  scout  in  confused  astonishment  at  such 
good  luck  as  he  looked  around  from  one  to  an- 
other of  us.  "Am  I  to  have  that  fine  horse  with- 
out paying  you  a  dollar?" 

" That's  what!  That's  the  job  we've  put  up  on 
you,"  we  replied. 

"Well,  now,  boys — "  stammered  Bill  in  a  diffi- 
dent sort  of  way  as  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
study  up  a  nice  little  speech  of  thanks. 

"Aw,  give  us  a  rest!"  interrupted  old  Tom  in 
his  rough  and  good-humored  effort  to  help  Bill  out 
of  his  embarrassment.  "The  horse  is  yours,  and 

288 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more  out  of  you 
about  it." 

Knowing  that  Bill  was  an  expert  shot  with  rifle 
or  pistol,  it  had  occurred  to  me,  since  he  had  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  buy  our  field-glass,  to  exact  of 
him  a  sample  of  his  marksmanship  as  his  signature 
to  a  promissory  note  for  the  price  of  the  glass;  and 
accordingly  I  had  selected  the  ace  of  diamonds 
from  our  old,  much-soiled  deck  of  cards  and  had 
written  across  the  face  of  it : 


$20. 

On  demand,  after  date,  I  promise  to  pay 
to  R.  M.  Peck  the  sum  of  Twenty  Dollars, 
($20.),  for  value  received. 

his 

Wild    <•>    Bill. 

mark. 

FORT  LARNED,  KAN. 
Mar.  17,  1862. 


"But,  Bill,"  I  put  in  after  Tom  had  cut  him  off" 
short  about  the  horse,  "I  ain't  going  to  let  you  off 
so  cheap  on  that  field-glass  deal.  You'll  have  to 
give  me  your  note  for  the  twenty  dollars." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can  borrow  that  much  from 
Cap  Saunders  or  Mr.  Wilson,  here,  and  pay  you 
the  cash,"  he  replied. 

289 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

"No,  I  don't  want  the  money — I  want  your 
note  written  on  this  card,  signed  by  a  bullet  shot 
by  you  through  the  centre  of  the  ace  at  ten 
paces." 

Saying  which,  I  produced  the  card  I  had  pre- 
pared and  read  the  inscription  to  him. 

"Now,  I'll  tack  the  card  up  on  this  tree  here," 
I  continued,  "and  you  are  to  stand  with  your  back 
against  the  card,  pistol  in  hand,  step  off  ten  paces, 
'bout  face,  and  fire  a  bullet  through  the  ace.  And 
if  you  don't  knock  the  centre  out  it's  no  go — I'll 
have  to  write  another  note  on  another  ace  and 
you'll  have  to  try  it  again." 

"Huh!  that's  easy,"  said  Bill  with  a  grin  of 
confidence.  "You  won't  have  to  waste  any  more 
of  your  cards." 

I  knew  he  could  do  it,  even  at  twenty  paces,  for 
I  had  seen  him  perform  such  feats  before.  With 
the  utmost  indifference,  he  backed  up  to  the  card  on 
the  tree,  stepped  off  ten  paces — good,  long-legged 
measure — made  a  graceful  "officer's  about  face," 
instantly  firing,  without  apparently  taking  aim,  as 
he  came  around  facing  the  card;  and  we  could  all 
see  the  hole  in  the  centre  of  the  bright-red  ace. 

"By  George,  that's  good  shooting!"  exclaimed 
Saunders  in  unfeigned  astonishment.  "Can  you 
do  it  again,  Bill,  or  was  that  just  an  accident?" 

"I'll  put  another  ball  in  the  same  hole  for  you," 
replied  the  scout  carelessly  as  he  threw  up  his 
pistol  and  fired. 

290 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

Saunders'  and  Wilson's  incredulity  prompted 
them  to  step  up  to  the  tree  and  examine  the  card 
closely. 

"Guess  you  must  have  missed  the  whole  tree 
that  time,  Bill,"  said  the  captain  after  scrutinizing 
the  card  and  tree  carefully.  "The  hole  isn't  made 
any  larger  that  I  can  see  and  I  can't  find  any 
other  hole  in  the  tree." 

"Of  course  not.  I  didn't  want  to  spoil  the  card; 
but  the  second  bullet  is  in  there,  right  on  top  of  the 
first  one,  and  I'll  bet  a  horse  on  it.  Now,  stand 
out  of  the  way  till  I  show  you  another  trick.  I'm 
going  to  take  off  the  right-hand  point  of  the  dia- 
mond this  time." 

And  at  the  crack  of  his  pistol  the  right  point 
disappeared — the  last  hole  just  cutting  into  the 
edge  of  the  first  one. 

"Now,  look  out  for  the  left-hand  point." 

And  the  left  point  was  gone — all  the  red  being 
obliterated  but  a  little  streak  above  and  below 
the  first  hole. 

"There,  Peck,"  he  remarked  regretfully  as  he 
began  reloading  his  pistol,  "I  had  to  pretty  nigh 
spoil  the  card  to  show  these  fellows  I  wasn't 
a-faking." 

"Don't  that  beat  the  devil?"  remarked  Wilson, 
looking  from  the  target  to  Bill  and  from  Bill  to 
the  target  in  undisguised  astonishment. 

"Well,  I've  heard  of  such  phenomenal  shoot- 
ing," said  Saunders,  "but  never  saw  the  like  be- 

291 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

fore  and  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible  if  I 
hadn't  seen  it.  Ain't  there  some  trick  about  it, 
Bill?" 

"Not  as  I  know  of — nothing  but  what  you've 
seen.  Now,  if  you  think  that  second  shot  missed 
the  tree,  Cap,"  remarked  the  scout  as  he  took 
down  the  card  and  passed  it  around  for  inspection, 
"take  that  axe,  there,  and  chop  'em  all  out,  and 
if  you  don't  find  four  navy  balls  in  there  I'll  eat 
the  chips." 

Lieutenant  Wilson  seized  the  axe  and  soon  cut 
out  the  four  battered  but  distinct  bullets. 

"I'd  give  a  good  deal  if  I  could  shoot  like  that. 
How  do  you  do  it,  Bill?"  asked  the  captain. 

"Dunno  how  I  do  it,"  replied  the  scout.  "I 
always  could  put  my  bullets  about  where  I  wanted 
to  and  can't  tell  how  I  do  it,  either.  I  don't  try 
very  hard,  but  just  throw  her  up  and  turn  loose 
without  taking  any  particular  aim,  and  somehow 
the  ball  goes  right  where  I  look.  Of  course,  I 
keep  in  good  practice,  and  that  helps  some,  I 
suppose." 

"Practice  won't  explain  it,  captain,"  said  old 
Tom.  "It's  a  gift — a  natural  talent  that  some 
men  find  themselves  possessed  of.  The  same  as 
some  men  have  the  natural  gift  of  writing  a  beau- 
tiful hand,  and  do  it  with  all  ease,  while  others, 
with  ever  so  much  practice,  can  only  acquire  mod- 
erate skill.  Now,  Peck,  Jack,  or  me,  by  constant 
practice,  can  do  fairly  well  with  a  pistol  or  rifle; 

292 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

but  we  can't  hold  a  candle  to  Bill.  The  best  we 
could  probably  do,  on  an  average,  at  fifteen  to 
twenty  paces,  would  be  to  put  three  to  four  bul- 
lets out  of  six  in  a  playing-card,  which  would  be 
good  shooting  at  a  man,  but  Bill  can  put  every 
ball  just  where  he  wants  'em  to  go.  I've  seen 
him  shoot  at  a  five-spot  and  put  a  ball  in  each 
spot  just  as  somebody  would  call  them  off  to  him, 
like  this,  *  Centre!  upper  right!  upper  left!  lower 
right!  lower  left!'  putting  the  balls  through  the 
centre  of  each  spot  as  accurately  as  you  could 
punch  them  with  a  nail  and  hammer.  And  he 
can  do  nearly  as  well,  too,  mounted  and  on  the 
run.  But,  come,  men,  supper's  getting  cold." 

After  supper,  although  his  recently  wounded 
arm  was  still  somewhat  sore,  Jack  got  out  his  fid- 
dle and  played  several  tunes,  and  we  all  joined  in 
singing  songs. 

In  course  of  conversation  I  had  asked  Captain 
Saunders  what  had  become  of  my  former  patron, 
Lieutenant  Lang,  not  having  seen  him  about  the 
garrison  recently. 

"Oh,  Lang's  out  and  gone — resigned  by  spe- 
cial request.  Went  in  on  the  last  Santa  Fe 
mail-coach,"  replied  the  captain.  "Although  you 
straightened  up  his  company  papers  and  saved 
him — or  his  rich  daddy,  rather — from  having  to 
pay  Uncle  Sam  a  lot  of  money  to  square  up  his 
accounts,  still  it  was  evident  in  many  ways  that 
he  was  totally  incompetent  to  manage  a  company, 

293 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

and  he  was  given  a  hint  from  headquarters  that 
his  resignation  would  be  acceptable." 

Tom,  Jack,  and  I  had  previously  discussed  the 
propriety  of  our  making  a  present  of  some  kind 
to  the  two  officers,  in  testimony  of  our  apprecia- 
tion of  their  extremely  prompt  and  timely  re- 
sponse in  the  hour  of  our  extremity,  and,  as  we  had 
nothing  else  available  or  appropriate,  we  had  de- 
cided to  abandon  the  plan  of  each  having  made  a 
fine  fur  overcoat  out  of  some  of  our  beaver  and 
otter  skins  and  to  give  to  each  officer  enough  of 
the  furs  for  that  purpose. 

At  late  bedtime,  when  the  officers  and  Bill  were 
getting  ready  to  start  back  to  the  garrison,  Tom 
brought  out  and  gave  to  Saunders  and  Wilson 
each  a  package  of  beaver  skins,  telling  them  of 
the  overcoats  we  had  intended  to  make  of  them 
and  suggesting  that  they  use  them  for  the  same 
purpose.  We  also  gave  each  officer  a  couple  of 
choice  buffalo  robes. 

"Now,  men,"  said  Saunders  deprecatingly, 
"don't  rob  yourselves  of  these  furs  to  reward  us 
for  doing  our  simple  duty.  We  don't  expect  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  are  not  entitled  to  any  reward, 
and  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  accept  them, 
and " 

"But,  Saunders,"  interrupted  Lieutenant  Wil- 
son, "when  you  come  to  think  of  the  princely 
overcoats  these  beaver  furs  will  make,  it  seems 
to  me  there  would  be  no  harm  in  accepting  them 

294 


WE  PART  FROM  FRIENDS 

— not  as  pay  for  doing  our  duty  but  just  as  tokens 
of  friendship  and  good-will  from  these  men." 

"Now  you're  getting  it  through  you,"  said 
Tom  approvingly.  "That's  the  idea — just  a 
friendly  gift."  And  before  Saunders  could  enter 
another  remonstrance  he  added,  as  he  gathered 
up  an  armful  of  the  robes  and  skins:  "Come,  Jack, 
bring  the  rest  and  we'll  tie  them  on  their  horses 
for  them." 

As  the  three  men  mounted  we  bade  them  a 
cordial  good-by  and  expressed  a  hope  to  soon 
meet  them  again  in  Leavenworth.  We  each  gave 
Found  an  affectionate  farewell  hug,  for  we  sin- 
cerely regretted  parting  with  him. 

"You'd  best  keep  Found  tied  up  for  a  few  days, 
Bill,"  suggested  Jack  as  they  started  off,  "lest 
he  should  scent  our  trail  and  follow  us.  And 
always  take  good  care  of  him,  for  he's  got  more 
genuine  nobility  in  him  than  lots  of  the  so-called 
men  I've  met  with." 

"You  bet  Found'll  never  want  for  good  treat- 
ment while  I'm  around,"  answered  Bill;  and  then, 
!<Ta,  ta,  fellows,  I'll  see  you  in  Leavenworth 
before  long,"  he  called  back  as  they  rode  away 
into  the  darkness. 

During  this  day  Mr.  Kitchen,  the  proprietor 
of  the  neighboring  train,  had  visited  our  camp 
and,  after  inspecting  our  wagon,  team,  and  camp 
outfit  closely,  had  asked  if  it  would  be  for  sale 
when  we  got  through  to  Leavenworth. 

295 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

I  answered:  "Yes." 

"What  will  you  take  for  it  delivered  to  me  there 
in  as  good  condition  as  it  is  now?"  he  asked,  add- 
ing: "I  shall  be  close  on  your  heels  going  in." 

After  conferring  with  my  partners  we  agreed 
to  deliver  the  outfit  in  good  shape  at  Jim  Brown's 
livery  stable,  Fourth  and  Shawnee  Streets,  Leav- 
enworth,  for  five  hundred  dollars.  Kitchen  readily 
agreed  to  take  it  and  paid  us  a  hundred  dollars 
down  to  clinch  the  bargain. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

"ITT'E  were  a  cheerful  trio  next  morning  as  we 
started  out  of  camp  on  the  home-stretch  for 
"God's  country,"  with  Jack  singing:  "Ain't  we 
glad  to  get  out  of  the  wilderness!" 

I  had  brought  my  captured  ponies  along,  think- 
ing to  use  them  for  riding  stock  going  in  and  to 
realize  something  on  them  after  we  reached  Leav- 
enworth,  and  for  the  first  day  tried  them — Jack 
riding  one  and  I  the  other — but  they  were  in  such 
poor  condition  that  by  the  time  we  had  reached 
Charley  Rath's  ranch,  the  first  evening,  I  saw  that 
they  were  not  going  to  be  able  to  stand  the  travel 
on  grass  alone — and  I  had  been  unable  to  teach 
them  to  eat  grain — so  I  left  them  with  Charley, 
with  a  note  to  Wild  Bill  requesting  him  to  dispose 
of  them  to  the  best  advantage  for  me,  which  he 
did,  turning  in  the  money  to  me  a  few  weeks  later 
in  Leavenworth. 

Our  bales  of  peltries  made  a  bulky  but  not 
heavy  load,  and  our  two  mules  and  two  broncos 
hauled  it  with  ease,  and,  though  we  were  all  anx- 
ious now  to  reach  the  end  of  our  journey,  still  we 

297 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

were  under  contract  to  deliver  the  team  to  Mr. 
Kitchen  in  Leavenworth  in  good  condition  and, 
therefore,  must  not  overdrive. 

Of  course  each  one  of  us  was  now  doing  some 
lively  planning  for  the  future. 

"Well,  taking  all  things  into  consideration,"  re- 
marked Jack,  the  first  evening  after  we  had  got 
settled  in  camp,  "though  we're  glad  to  get  out  of 
the  wilderness  for  a  while,  we've  done  pretty  well 
this  winter.  We've  had  lots  of  fun,  some  lively  ad- 
ventures, and  we've  made  more  money  than  we  had 
any  idea  of  when  we  started  into  the  business." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "we'll  each  have  something 
over  a  thousand  dollars  in  clear  cash  for  our  win- 
ter's work,  when  we  divide  up,  and  that's  more 
money  than  I  ever  possessed  before — how  is  it 
with  you  fellows?" 

"Same  here,"  said  Jack. 

"Me,  too,"  said  Tom. 

"Well,"  I  continued,  "I  suppose  each  one  of 
you  is  studying  out  how  he  can  quickest  blow  it 
in  before  re-enlisting?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  old  Tom. 
"I  expect  to  re-enlist  after  a  bit,  of  course,  for 
soldiering's  the  only  trade  I  know  and  I  haven't 
really  much  use  for  the  money,  but  I'll  not 
squander  it  foolishly.  I've  studied  out  a  better 
use  for  it.  I  have  a  widowed  sister  with  several 
children  living  on  a  little  farm  back  in  Penn- 
sylvania, and  they  only  make  a  poor,  cornbread 

298 


BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

living  off  the  place  by  close  economy.  I've  made 
up  my  mind  that  the  best  use  I  can  put  this 
money  to  is  to  go  back  there  and  fix  them  up  in 
good  shape — and  then  I'm  off  to  the  war." 

"Good  for  you,  Tom,"  I  said  approvingly,  "but 
then  I  naturally  expected  that  you  would  put 
your  money  to  a  sensible  use.  How  is  it  with 
Jack?" 

And  Tom  and  I  turned  our  inquiring  looks  to 
the  Irishman. 

"I  know  what  you  think,"  retorted  he  quickly. 
"You  think  you  know  what'll  get  away  with 
Jack's  money.  In  your  minds  you  see  my  money 
going  for  whiskey  and  me  never  drawing  a  sober 
breath  till  I'm  down  to  bed-rock.  But  I'm  going 
to  fool  you.  I've  been  doing  some  thinking  for 
myself — and  that's  a  rare  thing  for  Jack,  you 
know — an'  I  says  to  myself,  says  I,  'Jacky,  boy, 
this  is  the  time  of  your  life  to  do  some  good  for 
your  poor  kindred  in  ould  Ireland.'  I  haven't 
heard  from  any  of  them  for  several  years  and 
don't  know  who  of  them  is  living  an'  who  is  dead. 
But  I've  made  up  my  mind  that  when  we  get  into 
Leavenworth  not  a  drop  will  I  touch,  and  soon  as 
I  crook  me  fingers  on  that  money  I'll  hit  the  trail 
for  New  York,  take  passage  for  the  ould  dart,  and 
if  I  can  find  any  of  my  family  living  I'll  bring 
them  back  with  me  to  this  glorious  land  of  liberty, 
where  one  man's  as  good  as  another  and  a  blamed 
sight  better  if  he  behaves  himself  decently.  And 

299 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

mind  you,  now,  I'm  not  going  to  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor  till  I  get  back  from  the  ould  country.  And 
then,  of  course,  I'll  re-enlist,  for  soldiering's  my 
best  hold." 

Before  he  was  done  speaking  each  of  us  had  ex- 
tended a  hand  to  give  him  a  hearty  hand  shake  of 
encouragement  in  his  good  resolution. 

"My  boy,"  said  old  Tom,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
as  he  took  one  of  Jack's  hands  in  both  his,  "you 
don't  know  how  glad  it  makes  me  to  hear  you  talk 
that  way.  If  you'll  only  stick  to  it,  I'd  give  the 
half  of  my  possessions  to  help  you  carry  out  that 
resolution." 

"Same  here,  Jack,"  I  added. 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  show  you  that  I  can  and 
will  do  it." 

After  a  little  pause  Tom  inquired: 

"But  now  about  yourself,  Peck.  What  do  you 
expect  to  do  with  yourself?" 

"Well,  I've  made  up  my  mind  that  I'll  not  re- 
enlist,"  I  replied.  "I've  had  soldiering  enough,  I 
think;  but  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  enter  Uncle  Sam's 
service  in  some  shape  or  other.  I  noticed  when 
we  were  in  Leavenworth  before  that  the  quarter- 
master's department  at  the  fort  is  fitting  out  a 
good  many  trains  of  new  six-mule  teams;  and,  as 
that  is  something  to  my  notion,  I  think  I'll  try 
for  a  job  as  wagon-master." 

When  we  reached  Council  Grove,  then  the  gate- 
way of  the  border  settlements,  we  felt  as  if  we  were 

300 


BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

really  getting  back  into  "God's  country."  As 
we  passed  the  place  where  we  had  had  the  con- 
troversy with  the  jayhawkers,  we  stopped  a  little 
while  to  have  a  chat  with  the  old  storekeeper  and 
told  him  the  disposition  we  had  made  of  the  black 
horse.  He  had  never  heard  of  any  owner  of  the 
horse  and  did  not  think  it  probable  that  Wild  Bill 
would  ever  be  disturbed  in  his  possession  of  him. 
He  had  heard  nothing  more  concerning  the  jay- 
hawkers  after  they  were  gobbled  up  by  the  soldiers 
and  taken  to  the  military  prison  at  Fort  Leaven- 
worth. 

When  we  reached  Leavenworth  City,  we  again 
put  up  at  Ned  Welch's  boarding-house,  on  Sen- 
eca Street,  and  our  team  at  Jim  Brown's  stable. 

A  few  days  later,  on  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Kitchen's 
train,  we  transferred  our  team  and  camp  outfit  to 
him,  as  per  agreement,  divided  up  the  cash  pro- 
ceeds of  our  expedition,  and  the  wolf  hunters  dis- 
banded, promising  to  keep  track  of  each  other  in 
the  future  by  correspondence. 

Then  Jack  and  Tom  started  East,  intending  to 
travel  together  as  far  as  Pennsylvania. 

I  parted  with  my  dear  comrades  with  sincere 
regret,  fearing  that  in  the  vicissitudes  of  the  great 
war  then  getting  under  good  headway,  I  might 
never  see  them  again. 

When  next  I  heard  from  Jack  he  had  re-enlisted 
and  was  back  in  the  old  company  again.  In  the 
war  he  did  gallant  service  and  received  some  hon- 

301 


THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

orable  scars,  re-enlisted  again  after  the  war  and 
in  his  last  enlistment  took  service  in  the  Seventh 
Cavalry,  and  was  one  of  the  last  remnant  of  that 
doomed  band  who  with  their  gallant  leader  met  a 
heroic  death  on  that  fatal  knoll  by  the  Little  Big 
Horn  River  on  Sunday,  June  25,  1876.  With  few 
serious  faults,  and  many  virtues,  our  untutored, 
wild  Irishman  was  a  brave,  unselfish,  and  manly 
man. 

Tom  carried  out  his  plan  of  using  his  money  for 
the  benefit  of  his  widowed  sister  and  her  children 
on  the  little  farm  in  Pennsylvania,  saw  them 
comfortably  fixed,  and  then  went  to  Washington, 
where,  through  the  influence  of  army  officers  who 
had  known  him  in  the  service  he  obtained  a  com- 
mission as  captain  in  a  volunteer  cavalry  regiment, 
soon  rose  to  be  colonel  of  the  regiment,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  war  was  a  brevet  brigadier- general, 
commanding  a  brigade. 

He  had  hoped  when  the  war  ended  to  obtain  a 
commission  in  the  regular  army,  but  his  wounds 
so  far  disabled  him  as  to  unfit  him  for  active  ser- 
vice in  the  regulars.  He  was,  therefore,  com- 
pelled to  accept  a  pension  and  retired  to  the  little 
farm  to  try  to  content  himself  with  the  dull  life 
of  citizen. 

After  years  of  perilous  adventures  and  des- 
perate encounters  on  the  frontier,  Wild  Bill  was 
finally  assassinated  in  the  city  of  Deadwood,  South 
Dakota,  by  a  wretched  gambler. 

302 


BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

And  I?  Well,  of  course,  I  married  "the  girl  I 
left  behind  me"  in  Leavenworth  City,  for  which 
piece  of  wisdom — or  good  fortune — I  have  always 
congratulated  myself.  After  getting  married  I 
took  service  with  Uncle  Sam  as  a  wagon-master, 
in  which  capacity  I  served  through  the  Civil  War, 
in  Kansas,  Missouri,  Arkansas,  and  the  Indian 
Nation. 


303 


BY  GEORGE  BIRD  GRINNELL 

The  Wolf  Hunters 

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on  the  Western  Plains. 

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First  Across  the  Continent 

A  CONCISE  STORY 

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African  Adventure  Stories 

By  J.  ALDEN  LORING 

FIELD  NATURALIST  TO  THE  ROOSEVELT  AFRICAN  EXPEDITION 

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Mountaineer  and  Grizzly  Bear 
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